Book 6: Nerrissa and Kryall
by Veronice
Summary: Some bitter times, some better times. As always, a happy ending. This author believes in happy endings.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. _

_Notes:__ My stories diverge from Canon from the end of Hogwarts Year 5. __Harry's family__: Harry has been married twice, and widowed twice. Ginny's children are Adam Bourne, and Margaret, Victoria and James Potter. Luna's daughter is Beth Potter, who is a natural Telepath, and is now married to Jeremiah, who is also a natural Telepath. There is also an illegitimate son, Helmer Roos, who is Swedish. _

_*Harry acquired a slight brain injury when he killed Voldemort, and there was more damage after a severe illness. His balance is poor, and there are some other problems with his health. _

_**Warning**__**: Some chapters of this story have some sexual content. Rated for mature readers. **_

_Chapter 1:_

Adam Bourne, senior researcher in the Department of Mysteries, stuck his head into the office of Jebedee Shacklebolt, head of the Department of Public Relations.

"Dad's home," he said, and Jebedee looked up, surprised.

"When?"

"Friday. I don't think anyone knows yet, except the family."

A broad grin spread over the face of Jebedee.

Adam was smiling at him. "Go visit, if you want - he'll be delighted!"

"How's his health?" asked Jebedee. Harry had had a lot of problems with his health for a while.

Adam was on his way off, and just said, "Oh, so, so," wagging his fingers in a meaningless gesture.

Jebedee was left wondering. Just what did 'so so' mean?

Jebedee was in his early 50s now, and his hair was greying. He also had some facial scarring, other scarring on his body, and depended on an artificial leg. He'd been in the wars since he'd last seen Harry Potter! He was fit again now, though, and as strong as he'd ever been. It had hurt to find himself an amputee, but many of his fellow aurors had lost their lives in the recent fighting.

Jebedee told his assistant, Julius, that he was going out, and walked as briskly as he could to the Atrium, where he would apparate out of the Ministry of Magic.

Five minutes afterward, Julius remembered the important meeting that Jebedee was supposed to be attending shortly. He swore, and hoped he would not be blamed for it. He didn't know where Jebedee had gone in such a hurry, but it was certain that the meeting had been forgotten!

Jebedee appeared in the Apparation Zone of Harry's estate, 600 yards from the homestead. The place basked in the gentle May sunshine, but it was quiet. He saw no-one and wondered where the security guards were that Harry should have. Not for the first time, Jebedee thought that Harry needed more young, fit, fighting wizards in his employ, rather than the motley collection of squibs and muggles he surrounded himself with.

His attention was caught. Turning into the driveway from the road was a swiftly galloping horse, who leapt a couple of intervening fences rather than taking the track, and hurtled straight toward him.

Jebedee was tense for a moment, even starting to raise a hand to draw his wand. But the horse was already almost on top of him, and Harry was off, only holding the horse's mane very briefly for balance, before taking Jebedee's hand, and shaking it warmly.

But Jebedee pulled him closer into a hug, patting his back. "You're good!" he said, "Not a cane, even!"

Harry was grinning, as delighted as Adam had said he would be. "Usually a cane," he said, "And you too?"

Jebedee carried a cane. A false leg was apt to snag when out of doors, and a cane was prudent.

They turned and walked toward the house, on a rather ill defined narrow track. Harry's place had few visitors. The horse walked with them, every now and then nudging Harry in the back, until he turned, casually vanished the rope rains attached to a loose halter, patted him, whispered in his ear, and the horse stood, watching them leave.

"You were on a little spotted horse last time I saw you ride," commented Jebedee.

"Jumbuck," said Harry. "He was closer to the ground in case I fell. He's pretty old now, though."

"And who's the one you were on?" asked Jebedee. He knew Harry liked to talk about his horses.

"That's Kinsman, you would have seen him before, a son of Kinship." And he pointed out Kinship, the glossy chestnut mare grazing in a grassy field, a couple of young horses with her, and heavily in foal again.

"This is to be her last foal," said Harry, "She's getting a bit old, too."

When they got to the house, Harry poked his head into the kitchen. Old Milly sat in a comfortable chair, thickened legs at ease on a footstool. But young Tracy was bustling about, involved in the cooking of cakes and biscuits under the direction of her aunt. House Elves were available also, if they needed extra help, and Harry didn't hesitate when he casually asked Tracy to organise a morning tea for himself and for Jebedee. He was a lucky man in some ways, Harry Potter, he had hardly ever had to do any cooking and cleaning for himself.

Jebedee and Harry had a bit to catch up on. And Harry learned for the first time that rumours had spread about the relationship between himself and his daughter. Not that Jebedee said anything, just that it was so prominent in his mind, that Harry heard it anyway.

There were a lot of changes in the Ministry, and especially in the Auror Department. Their ranks had been decimated by the fighting, and three times the number of trainees as usual had been taken on, and a dozen more qualified aurors lured in from America, and even more from Europe. Jebedee gave Harry the list of those dead. Eli, Trevor, Craig, Tom, and some young ones - Jack, Bernard and Peter. Others, too, whom Harry didn't know as well. Harry was upset.

"There was Anna, too," Jebedee added.

"Not Anna!" said Harry. He looked away. He had known them all, been friendly with them all, and Eli had been a friend. Anna, Anna had been special.

"Andrew?" he asked.

Andrew Pritchard had been a close companion for a time when he had been the Coordinator of their overseas trips. Harry had enjoyed being with Andrew. He was not an auror then, and Harry and Andrew had regularly slipped the bodyguards, and got into mischief together. Andrew had transferred into auror training after being fired from his job for incompetence. He'd been one of those friends who'd been given the coordinates to Harry's home in those brief few weeks when he'd welcomed visitors to his hidden home. It had been a time of partying, as Harry had fully expected to die quite soon. He'd just been going to have one more go at overcoming the problems of fits and nervous attacks.

"He's qualified now, of course," said Jebedee. "Doing OK, I think," though actually he'd heard that he was a bit slack, especially in the paperwork department.

"I should not have gone away," Harry said finally. "I might have been able to help."

But Jebedee said gently, "We're the aurors, Harry. It's our job. For so long, it was unusually peaceful. Dad told me that when he was younger the Department had more than twice the numbers of aurors, and they lost people then from time to time."

"But so many! What was going on?"

"Well, it seems like it was a concerted effort to take power, even to set up in opposition to the Ministry. They were mostly British born, but they came from America and Canada mostly, and some from countries in Europe."

"Is it over?"

"Oh, yes, we won in the end."

"Your injuries?" asked Harry.

Jebedee nodded. "Zack's still at home, but it looks like he'll come good, and several others have had to transfer into different departments as they no longer meet the fitness requirements for an Auror."

"Is Sanaz all right?" asked Harry.

"Married, with triplets, if you think that's all right," laughed Jebedee.

The news of deaths and injuries in the ranks was not new to Jebedee, but Harry still felt sore. "I should not have gone away," he said again. "I can apparate to a person now - should I tell them, do you think? They can call me in their mind, and as long as I know them, I may very likely hear, and I can come and help."

Jebedee stared at him. This was new, and as extraordinary an ability as anything else that he knew of Harry Potter. But then Jebedee looked away, thinking, silent for a while.

"Dad told me before he died," he finally said, "That he and Mark went through the Ministry file on you one day, and they took out everything that spoke of unusual abilities. The spell-breaking was left in, of course, and an old report was left in that firmly stated you could only do magic without a wand when you were fighting or frightened. And Trevor intended to take great care what went on record from then on, so that hopefully, no-one will try and bring you down just because they think you're too powerful."

"I never thought about a Ministry file, but I suppose all those reports have to go somewhere... It was very good of them."

"Percival Weasley is Minister for Magic now - and he's just the type to think that a person outside the Ministry should not be too powerful." He ended firmly, "I think you should do as you've always done, try and keep your abilities quiet, and if you have developed more abilities, like apparating to a person, or hearing them when you're not close, you should keep them even more quiet!"

Harry was thinking about what he had said, and finally said, "You're probably right - though I don't think Perce would try and hurt me, he was my brother-in-law, and Ron's brother, too, my own children's uncle."

"You don't understand people very much, sometimes, do you?" said Jebedee.

Harry dropped his eyes, "Maybe I don't."

Jebedee was thinking that this was turning into an unexpectedly serious discussion, and was looking for a lighter topic. But he was not put to the effort, as a tiny child appeared beside Harry's knee.

"Can I have a cake, Boss," he said, helping himself.

Harry laughed, and pulled him onto his knee. "Does your Mum know you're here?" he asked, as the child covered him with cake crumbs.

Jebedee was wondering, and his train of thought led to something else. "Helmer Roos - what's he doing now?"

"In his second year of training to be an auror," said Harry. "This is young Simon. He's the son of Chris and Chrissy, whom you know."

Jebedee looked uncomfortable, "Did you read my mind?"

Harry laughed. "I never look at people's minds without a very good reason - but this time you were pretty obvious! A little boy on my knee, and you promptly start thinking of illegitimate children!"

"That was something - that duel you fought with him, up until he told you," Jebedee said, adding, "Poor Helmer, he didn't know what he was taking on!"

"He hasn't duelled since, he tells me - only when they're set to do it in training, and now he can undo his spells himself, so he's not such a problem." He continued, "I was lucky he came along when he did. I hate to think of the lecture Hermione would have given me if he'd turned up when I was healthy! You should have heard how she raked me down when I admitted to Julia! I thought I was careful before then, but I've been extremely careful since, in spite of Helmer."

Jebedee said teasingly, "You go with an awful lot of women - what if there's more?"

But Harry shook his head. "I'm sure there's no others. I'm too careful!"

In Queensland, Australia, another son of Harry's, a large blonde boy, not long turned nine, gave the last thumps to a smaller child of the same age, before sauntering back to class. There were a few others scattered around the world...

Jebedee was asking Harry about resuming his spell-breaking stints. Harry shrugged, and said honestly, "I really wouldn't care if I never broke another spell. But I'm the only one who can do it. It makes it rather an obligation."

"Do you get no satisfaction from it, then?"

"Well, yes, I do, I guess, but I'd be better pleased if I could train others to do it. If I had my choice, I would be a teacher again. That was the best time of my life, when I was a teacher, and married to Ginny. I was very happy with Luna, too, of course, but I was no longer a teacher by then."

They talked on and on, until Tracy came in and asked if Jebedee was staying for lunch. Jebedee looked at his watch, and said he'd best be getting back.

Harry strolled with him to the Apparation Zone, and it was not until they were halfway there, that Jebedee exclaimed, "Damn - I was supposed to be in a meeting. I clean forgot! Weasley'll be furious!"

Harry grinned. It seemed strange to him that Jebedee, whom he profoundly respected, would be worried about what Percy would say. But he remembered. He shouldn't mock Percy. Perce was now Minister for Magic, and he knew from experience that a Minister for Magic made a very bad enemy.

**x**

A week later, Harry was working again, starting a few days' spell-breaking in London to catch up after nearly three years' absence.

Healer Ben Weasley was presiding, and it seemed that Harry was still to be watched, or protected, whichever it was, as two aurors had been rostered to be with them, one in the office as he worked, one in the waiting room or outside, as the auror thought best.

Beryl, an auror whom he knew, had come with them to introduce them to Harry, but Harry eyed them with some suspicion - they'd been recruited from Germany, and were big, tough looking men, with grim expressions. But then, so were the English aurors, and they had become friends. So he greeted them with courtesy, only making sure not to turn his back on them.

Hermione had taken over from her son at their practice, as Ben had seldom had the opportunity to watch Harry as he worked. No patients thought of complaining - Healer Granger was a very well known mediwizard.

On the third day, Emil Schultz turned up to observe. Schultz was the new head of the Auror Department. Like several of the aurors, he had also been recently recruited from Germany, to the annoyance of many of the English aurors, who thought themselves just as well qualified, and with infinitely superior local knowledge. But Percy Weasley had made the decision. Percy thought that the Aurors' Department had been too lax for years, although he had to admit that they had done well in the recent battles.

Emil Schultz was very interested in Harry Potter, and the file was surprisingly uninformative. There were rumours of a lot more power than was described, and Schultz watched those old films of Harry, especially the one in which he had looked at Robin Griffin, and he had died, and then he looked at Andrew Smith-Burton, and he had died.

It was only three days before Harry was caught up with the backlog of work, and he had not once needed even the slight effort that the observers would feel as a gentle tingle of magic in the air. All a bit of a bore, really, and Franz apparently thought it beneath his dignity to shoo out the cured patients afterward, so at first, they were sometimes delayed by too much gratitude. But Ben soon got into the way of doing that job, becoming increasingly firm as the week progressed.

Franz and Emil were not particularly impressed, which was a bit silly really. Harry Potter was the only one in the world who could cure these patients so easily, although in recent years, his daughter Beth had learned to work cures with telepathy, and just a touch of magic, with a lot more finesse than her father would ever have with that method. The telepathic method took longer though. Harry cured most of his patients with a bare glance, although he waved a wand, and muttered an incantation as a matter of form.

Ben asked Harry to do more work the following week. Stan McMillan, who was still the head of the Department for International Cooperation, had spread the word, and there were a lot of requests from overseas. Harry agreed casually, and strolled outside into Diagon Alley. It had been a long time since he'd wandered this alley, and he thought that he could probably do it in a more leisurely fashion than ever before. No-one seemed to be wanting to kill him these days, and even when he was recognised, hardly anyone seemed to be wanting to approach him.

The aurors followed him. Harry Potter ignored them.

There was a certain hostility in the air from a small group, who were looking at him very intently. He opened his mind to them, were they about to throw a Death Curse? But no, their minds were speaking of unnatural powers, a 'Devil's Disciple,' an incestuous relationship, and, from a couple of grey-haired men, came a very human and simple resentment. He was nearly seventy, and still looked like a young man!

Harry shrugged and strolled on. He could live with that.

It didn't take long before it was widely known that he was back, and scandalous rumours became even more scandalous when word spread that his daughter was pregnant. Had he married her off the moment she became pregnant, and then abandoned her? It was known that she had met her husband just three days before the marriage.

But when placards began to be carried by a certain small group, they did not refer to incest, instead they mostly carried the word, 'Monster,' and there were pictures of a young man in a bathing suit, and reminders that Harry Potter was nearly seventy. Had he sold his soul to the devil?

Harry was irritated. They should have known that some wizards live a long time. He was not the first, and he was not the only one. Madam Crick was known to be a hundred and thirty for instance. And he was still only sixty-nine, and with the health problems he was subject to every now and then, he probably wouldn't make anything like a hundred and thirty!

He put some thought into how to avoid notice of his continuing youth in the muggle world though. Maybe he should stop being seen by the neighbours, and somehow become his own grandson, for instance...

After a month at home, there was the summons that he had been expecting. Was he interested in doing overseas trips again? The Ministry of Magic loved him doing overseas stints. It was enormous prestige for British wizardry, and he suspected that Percy would not be able to resist that, even though he may not approve of Harry himself.

At the beginning of June, he presented himself at the Ministry for a conference about re-commencing the trips. Conference Room 2 again. He was beginning to know that room rather well. But there were more changes. Stan McMillan was in the same position, but both Ministry Healers had left, and had joined forces to set up a Private Practice in Bristol.

The Ministry Healer was now a stern-faced woman of around forty, who was currently studying him carefully. He looked at her in return, and couldn't help hearing what she was thinking, _Spoilt, probably, probably had too much attention paid to him all his life. High-strung, maybe, but he won't catch me fussing over him! _

Harry was delighted, and surprised her by giving her a wide smile, a glint of humour in his eyes. He thought she was dead right, there had always been too much attention paid to him. And he could certainly do without the fussing that Therese and Jodie had subjected him to - even Hermione, who seemed still to think that his health hung on a knife edge. Catherine Rutherford was her name - Harry thought she'd do fine.

Sarah Creevey was to coordinate again, although not to travel with them, and Emil said there were to be always four aurors. Harry tried objecting to that, no-one had tried to kill him for years, he said. That it might be handy to have a couple when he worked, but there was no need for bodyguards afterwards.

Emil just said smoothly that it was not to be risked, that he was too valuable to go unprotected. And Harry knew that the motive was to have him watched as much as it was to have him protected, and reminded himself to check for location devices before leaving when he wished to have his privacy. They'd done it to him before, but only when he was in precarious health and they thought it justified.

It was agreed that they should start the week after next, and Sarah said probably Germany - they were always nagging for a visit.

Harry rose, stretching, and casually stated that their problems served them right - they should outlaw duelling.

Emil frowned his displeasure. Duelling was an honourable tradition! But the meeting was breaking up now, Catherine only stating firmly to Harry that he was to go with her right now to have a preliminary examination.

Harry looked at her and said gently, "Not today, Catherine, I have an appointment."

His next act was to go and see Therese and Jodie, and was very pleased to discover that they had left virtually no information on his abnormalities for the Ministry to stew over.

He reported back to Catherine a few days later for the examination she demanded. She was brisk, no-nonsense, and quick. She only had him strip to the waist, checked him over without fuss, noted down his weight, and the Nisco readings, and asked him about residual problems from his illness of a few years previously.

Harry was matter-of-fact. He had poor balance, so carried a cane, he lacked fine coordination in the fingers so that his writing was almost illegible, and he also had attacks of trembling every now and then, for no particular reason. Otherwise, he was fine.

He didn't mention that he could not apparate to coordinates, as he thought that the Ministry might want to take away his apparation license if they knew he'd lost that basic skill. He also very quietly treated her Nisco, so that it would give a maximum of 105, as he had done to the monitors of Therese and Jodie before her. Harry still liked to pretend he was a normal man, and an LV reading of 294, when normal was 100, was an obvious indicator that he was not a normal man. There were other indicators, that showed sometimes on other types of monitors, but they were not used as routinely as the Nisco, and he'd never worried about them.

He still did an hour's meditation every morning as a preventative measure against the 'nervous attacks' he had suffered from at one stage, as he rather suspected that under the right circumstances they could again become a problem. There had been no indications of those type of problems for years, but the hour in the morning had become a routine, as much as his morning shower.

There were other preparations for the trips. Jebedee had happened to join Emil one lunch time, and had casually spoken about Harry. Emil would not have asked for advice, but he took notice of Jebedee - that Harry was easier to manage when accompanied by his friends, especially Anthony, and that he had to expect that sometimes Harry would be up in the middle of the night, wanting to go for long walks. That sometimes he would make himself very tired when working, even collapsing a few times in the past, and having to be taken back to the hotel. That he reacted very badly if the aurors tried to tell him what he could or could not do, and that he was likely to shamelessly boycott official functions, even those in his honour, unless they contrived to have present some intellectuals and researchers in whom he was interested.

***chapter end***


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. _

_Chapter 2:_

Monday, Harry reported to the room near the Transport Bay, where they had always gathered, and was delighted to find his friends, Anthony and Malcolm there. There was also Franz, in whom he had a bit more confidence now, and a newly qualified young man called Alex. To his surprise, both Percy and Emil were also going.

Catherine arrived last, striding into the room carrying her bag. Officially, the role of the mediwizard on the team had always been to supervise the cures, as Harry was not a qualified mediwizard. There was very little to do in that role, but the healer had been invaluable in the past, to treat the minor illnesses and injuries of the aurors, as well as the occasional major worries caused by Harry.

They again had the private aeroplane that had served them so well in the past, and Percy joined him and chatted. Percy was relishing this opportunity to show off the prestige of British Wizardry, and Harry was their prize possession. He had apparently forgotten that Harry was an unpunished murderer, and was happy to be seen to be on the best of terms with the great wizard.

It was a matter of survival to be on good terms with the Minister for Magic, but Harry never had liked Percy, and only endured his company for as long as he thought wise before saying that he wanted to go talk to the pilot, Cliff. Almost alone among the company, Harry had years ago made friends with the muggle pilot. For the rest of the short trip, Harry sat in the co-pilot's seat, and listened to concerns about the cost of university for Cliff's children.

Germany, and Sarah had remembered, and their hotel was right next to the beach. Harry was delighted, and would have gone straight off for a swim before lunch, except that there was some sort of an official delegation making speeches, with Percy Weasley lapping up all the attention they were paid.

Harry was impatient, he hated speeches, but he watched Percy and his pleasure, and put up with it. Percy would be less likely to turn on him if Harry's abilities helped Percy feel his own importance.

More ceremonial at lunch time, and now Harry was really getting fed up. He was trying to be good, but his eyes kept going to the window as he thought about escape. He was taken by surprise when he was suddenly nudged by Emil sitting next to him. "What?" he asked, clearly audible in a sudden silence, and betraying completely how little attention he'd been paying to the lengthy speech just completed.

Yarns were told about the eccentricities of the great wizard these days, and several there were amused, but the German Minister for Magic was as great a stickler for ceremonial and rules as Percy Weasley, and was irritated. When people were presented with prestigious awards, they were at least supposed to pay attention. In his precise English, the German repeated his request that Harry Potter join him, and Harry cast his eyes around, gathered immediately what it was all about, and was ready with a courteous and totally insincere few sentences of appreciation. It was apparently for his work of several years ago, as he hadn't even done anything yet for this trip.

That was soon to change, and he spent the afternoon sorting out the problems that duelling wizards had brought on themselves, before finally doing what he wanted, and going for a long swim. Anthony and Malcolm were with him, and Franz casually chatted with a couple of German aurors on the shore. They'd put Alex on night duty as the youngest and most junior, although the official reason was that younger men tolerate night duty better than older ones. But Anthony, Malcolm and Franz were all only about thirty, and it was more that they didn't like night duty.

By Wednesday, Harry found himself doing wizards and a few witches from neighbouring countries including a young woman pumpkin-head from Italy. She was dead.

There had been a wide-spread change in the treatment of pumpkin-heads since Harry Potter was on the scene. Until he found a way, no pumpkin-head had been rescued, and now they knew from Harry that they mostly died within a few months, some a lot quicker, but the vegetable lived on for years. Now, when Harry pronounced a pumpkin-head dead, the living zombie/vegetable was almost always put down by the mediwizard, and the remains could be buried, to the relief of relatives.

Thursday was apparently devoted to ancient cases from institutions that were often very difficult. Harry had asked before that such cases should be spread out over the week, but, as usual, that request had been overlooked.

After the first patient had required the strong magic that Harry could call up, Franz had a word with Emil, and before long both Emil and Percy had joined the group of observers that always seemed to be present when he worked his cures, a few mediwizards mostly, with any others who were curious and had the influence to wangle the privilege.

Harry mostly ignored them, although they would be warned if he was going to need the strong magic that sometimes had people bolting for the door. It was the first experience for both Catherine and Franz, but they stayed apparently unmoved. Such power resonating in the air was both frightening and impressive. Therese had fainted once.

But when Percy and Emil joined the observers, Harry switched methods, and used the telepathic method for the next few difficult patients, until a fist knocked him flying. Many witches and wizards bitterly resented the feeling of another mind in their own, but it was not as tiring for Harry, and did not fill the minds of the observers with awe and fear.

The angry patient was being firmly held by Franz as Harry picked himself up, and used his fluent German to soothe the patient, and assure him that he would not do that again.

The German Minister for Magic came in then, and joined the observers, an obsequious assistant hovering around.

Harry was frowning at them. He thought there were too many, that each extra observer added to the risk of interruptions when he was calling up his power. The last time he had been interrupted, he had fitted, and his head hadn't stopped aching for days.

Again he tried to persuade at least some of the observers to leave, but only two did.

Percy was afraid of losing face, and while the German Minister was there, he planned to stay.

Harry looked at them dubiously. He didn't think that Percy had a great deal of courage, and stressed again that if they had to leave the room, they should avoid him and not interrupt. This time when he called up the strong magic, he made the extra effort to weave a spell of calm over the observers, especially with Percy in mind. He also kept the patient calm, as he stood, wand raised, and the frightening feel of his power filled the air.

Ten years ago, he would not have been able to do this. Ten years ago, he would have already exhausted himself with the first difficult patient. His power had grown.

Afterward, though, he called a break, an early morning tea. They were behind, but he needed a rest and something to eat. He looked suspiciously at Catherine. Therese or Jodie would have been fussing over him, monitor in hand, but Catherine was only talking to Percy. And no-one took the slightest notice when he ate more than usual. He thought Catherine was great.

Percy and the German Minister went off together to Harry's relief, and he felt Percy's conceit with himself. Percy thought himself a very brave fellow, being able to sit unmoved while the air thrummed with a power that almost, but not quite, hurt his head.

Until lunch there were no more difficult patients, and he swiftly caught up with the schedule. Afterward again, more tough ones. And again, he tried the telepathic method first, intending to resort to raw power only if necessary.

Three were about the limit he could do of these in a day, and when he struck the third, he directed that the patient should be put back to last. And then there was a fourth and a fifth. He thought he had never had a tougher day, and those last two, he said had to wait until the following day.

Catherine was looking at him with narrowed eyes now, especially when she noticed him depending on his cane more than usual, and a fit of trembling that lasted longer than usual. But she had promised herself that she would not fuss over him, and still left him alone.

Anthony had been intending to suggest a visit to a gymnasium that he had found, but when Harry finally emerged looking very weary, he only went to his left hand side, and walked with him back to the hotel.

Aside from Harry's weariness, there were other results of that day. There had been no failures, and twice Emil had felt the great power that Harry could call up, and he wondered with whose contrivance the file on him had been so greatly reduced, his power downplayed. He had also seen his vulnerability, and wondered what would happen if he were interrupted when he was generating such great power.

Friday morning, there were a few routine patients, plus the two that had been put off from the previous day. Only when they were on the plane did Catherine annoy Harry by finally making the check that Therese, Jodie or Hermione would have been wanting a lot earlier and a lot more frequently. But she only did the Niscos and the weight, and noted them down without saying anything, thereafter ignoring him as he dozed.

They were doing alternate weeks, and as the team now did trips over a large part of the world, rather than just Europe, there was a constant supply of work.

Emil left Harry with the same team, trip after trip - Anthony, Malcolm, Franz and Alex, with only an occasional change due to leave or illness. Harry felt comfortable, mostly enjoyed himself, and Franz and Alex became as accustomed to his ways as Anthony and Malcolm.

Franz did his job well, but had not become a friend.

There was only one major difference in that often, especially on the last night, there would be functions arranged, and the Minister for Magic, Percival Weasley, would attend, enjoying the importance of being an honoured guest in dozens of different countries. Harry had previously discouraged these functions by the simple expedient of avoiding them, but now he went along with them, to the surprise of Anthony and Malcolm. He was giving Percy what he wanted. It was a matter of his own survival, and sometimes there would be interesting people invited which made it all a lot more enjoyable.

He was given more medals and awards, too, and once joked with Anthony that it was a fashion, obviously - sometimes everyone wanted to give him medals, sometimes everyone wanted to kill him or to take him prisoner. Just a fashion.

He never valued these awards, and they were usually lost quite quickly, until Chrissy and Margaret quietly took charge of them, and kept them safe.

Catherine continued not to fuss, although she began taking Niscos and weight measures at the beginning and end of every week as a matter of routine. She never discussed her findings with him, only noted them down and left him alone, not even nagging him that he was too thin.

He thought she was great, and he even started doing as the others did, and going to her voluntarily for treatment when there were minor ailments or injuries. He had no particular desire to get into fights these days, but he still enjoyed vigorous and sometimes risky activities, especially with Anthony, and all of them sometimes had bruises and scrapes to treat, and Anthony broke a leg and a couple of ribs once.

Franz was always in charge, and a couple of times another of the German recruits when Franz was on leave.

Twice, they made a special quick trip to Italy to try and rescue pumpkin-heads. Each time it had been a young woman, and each time, it was thought that she had been on a date, and each time, the victim had been dead, even though Harry had come within days.

**x**

It was the beginning of December, and Harry was home reading a letter from Beth. Chrissy's enormous dog, Jimbo, sprawled on the floor in front of the fire, taking up most of the floor space. Tabitha and Half-Tail, Harry's cats, were curled up together at the dog's flank, enjoying his warmth.

Beth's letter was long and informative, as his were to her. They never communicated telepathically these days, but Harry knew that Beth was very happy. They had made a good life for themselves, Beth and Jeremiah, in the Pacific Islands where magic was a long standing tradition. Muggles as well as witches and wizards went to Beth for help, while big, black Jeremiah usually sat in a chair nearby and looked impressive. Beth had a great understanding and was a gifted counsellor. She was well known among the wizarding population, and sometimes there were spells she could break for witches and wizards.

The baby was due at the end of December, and Beth told him that they already had an experienced healer waiting. Beth would probably not have bothered with a healer, relying on muggle doctors, but Harry insisted, threatening to bring one himself if she did not do as he said. Beth went her own way mostly, but had done as Harry wished when something else occurred to her. The healer was of the world of wizardry, and news of a brown baby would scotch those rumours that Harry was the father of his daughter's baby.

Harry still did fortnightly stints at Ben's practice, keeping up with demand, with an occasional overseas client as well. Hermione attended whenever she thought that he should have an examination. He mostly obeyed these days, Hermione had saved his life too many times. He thought that if it made her happy...

There was something new. Often outside Ben's rooms, there would be demonstrations. Chanting wizards and witches carrying placards - their message was that Harry Potter was a monster, and that people should put up with their problems rather than going near the monster.

One day, a client came in panting, his clothing torn and disarranged. Harry asked him what had happened.

"I had to force my way through the demonstrators," said the man with a shrug. "Idiots!" he added.

But Harry was annoyed, and when he finished his clients for that day, rather than disapparating from within as usual, he went out the door, looking frowningly at the group. Most of them middle-aged or older, most of them of meagre talent and even less intelligence. The aurors, young Simon and experienced Beryl stayed close as he confronted them. He said clearly, "They're annoying me, Beryl - What do you think I should do to them?"

Beryl shrugged, but the group were huddling together a bit closer.

"How about if I turn them all inside out? Would I get into trouble for that, do you think?"

Simon, not knowing Harry very well, was alarmed, and said urgently, "No, Harry, leave them alone!"

Harry was smiling, and the group took another step back. "Or I could burn them - slowly."

He deliberately drew his wand, and when the ground in front of them started glowing, with one mind, they dropped their placards and fled.

Harry strolled to Fortescues and had an ice-cream.

The demonstrators took care never to appear again where the monster might confront them. There were still rumours. Not only an unnatural monster, but one who had taken wicked advantage of his own daughter.

**x**

The following week, Italy. Same team, same routine.

On Monday, three pumpkin-heads awaited attention. They were all young women. Harry touched their hands, and pronounced two of them dead. They had been cursed six and eight weeks ago, respectively. Harry was angry, and turned to the Italian Coordinator, demanding to know why he had not been called earlier. He might have been able to rescue them.

But the Italian stated that the previous three had all been dead, even though he had been called in within days, and Harry remembered that they had indeed been called a couple of times to Italy, and it was like he said. They had been dead. He apologised, but said again to please call him. Mostly, if it was recent, they could be rescued.

An ambulance team was quickly arranged, and Harry pulled out the remaining woman from the monster. Instead of going berserk and trying to attack him, this one screamed non-stop before collapsing in hysterics. Harry thought that she'd probably recover quite quickly, and left her in the hands of the Italian mediwizard.

Catherine was looking at him differently these days, although it was not obvious. Except for the routine checks at the beginnings and ends of the weeks, she treated him the same as the others, and her awe at his powers was well concealed. She'd even raked him down when he'd turned up battered from a muggle fist fight one day.

But for Harry, the pumpkin-head was nothing unusual. He'd done a lot of those by now, although he wondered what sort of sick pervert was doing it to young women. It appeared the Italians were no closer to discovering the culprit, in spite of the obvious pattern.

There were a few more routine cases, and the group adjourned for lunch. A couple of Italian aurors kept an eye on the crowd, and Alex was at Harry's side.

Harry paused in his stride as he started to tremble. The shaking attack was a bit more severe than normal, and he was waiting for it to subside before continuing. Alex knew not to comment, and just waited with him.

In an instant, Harry lost vision, lost smell, lost hearing, lost sensation. And like every other pumpkin-head, he screamed in panic inside his own head.

There were screams and panic outside as well, as people registered the sudden change. Alex and Catherine were looking at him, appalled.

Harry's trembling ceased as the bodily placidity of the pumpkin-head took over. The cane was dropped.

Alex had stepped back, staring at him in horror, and Anthony came instead to take the arm of the man/vegetable. All of the other aurors, English and Italian, furious, now had their wands out, and were looking for the culprit.

Harry was not a normal person. He knew what had happened, fought off the panic, delved inside his own head, and he was back. But like every other rescued pumpkin-head, he knew an overwhelming anger, and he looked around him, white-faced, quivering with fury and with magical power.

He ignored the aurors as he clamped an anti-disapparation charm over the whole area, strode toward the crowd, teeth actually bared in a primitive expression of pure rage as he scanned the faces that stared. A goodlooking man of thirty was singled out, those around him scattered, and a low ring of fire surrounded the man, at a distance of a few yards.

Harry was still, his expression unchanged, himself reeking with power so that no-one approached. The flames leapt higher, and started to burn toward the man. The man was terrified, tried to disapparate, but could not, and drew his wand again. The wand turned to flame, and was flung away, and the man started to scream.

Anthony and Franz were calling to Harry, trying to bring some sense to the berserk man. Anthony tried to approach again, but there was an invisible barrier, and he could not come close. It appeared that Harry was going to burn the man to death, slowly, the flames getting higher, hotter, and closer. The man spun around, searching for an escape, and continued his high pitched screaming.

Harry stood quivering with rage, his eyes fixed on the man. His teeth were bared with fury, his eyes narrowed, face white. They tried to tell him, calling to him urgently, "There's no proof! You'll be in trouble. Don't do it!"

Franz made a decision, drew his wand, and tried to stun him. But a magical glow of power surrounded Harry, and the stun spell bounced off. Harry didn't appear to even notice it.

Again, Anthony tried to penetrate the invisible barrier that surrounded him, looking his despair at Franz. How could they stop him?

But suddenly the man in the middle of the ring of fire dropped to the ground, stunned, but untouched by flame, and the fire vanished, as Harry wheeled away, and was violently ill. He was white, shuddering in violent tremors that shook his body. Catherine and Anthony were by his side, and Catherine showed a different side to her character, murmuring to him soothingly, and as the retching died away, taking him in her arms, and just holding him.

They got him back to the hotel, and Catherine stayed with him all that afternoon as he continued to shake, in spite of the steaming potion that he drank at the gentle coaxing of Catherine. The potion made him sleep a little, and she sat by his side, stroking his forehead now and then, and keeping away the terrors that shook him.

The man whom Harry had threatened with incineration was taken off, and questioned in the way wizards can use. It was soon known that he had been responsible for all the attacks on young women. He would not tolerate a refusal from the women, and wound up having them anyway, even when some of the heads had been turned to vegetable. It was a pity that people were too polite to point out that a man who reeks of garlic is often going to be rejected. It might have saved some lives... After the questioning, they let him change his pants.

Catherine may have resolved not to fuss over Harry, but she stayed with him through the night as he slept fitfully, Malcolm on guard outside the door. And she was there when he woke screaming and she took him in her arms and held him as he sobbed. It was like she said, Harry Potter was high strung.

Franz was reassured at the outcome of the incident. Harry had been berserk with rage, no-one was able to do anything to stop him, but he had come to his senses himself. He had not killed.

The following day, Harry was a bit better, and apologised uncomfortably for being such a nuisance. The day's work had been cancelled, and he went for a long walk, Anthony by his side, and Italian aurors also watching, but having some trouble keeping up.

As soon as he returned to the hotel, the trembling started again, and when Catherine came to him with yet another glass of steaming potion, he asked if she had her Nisco on her. There was no indication of the spiking of the readings that had been a warning of nervous attacks in the past, and he thanked her, and handed it back without comment, but with some considerable relief.

But for the first time, Catherine insisted on doing a more thorough examination, including the use of a fit monitor. She knew that he had a history of fits. Harry made no objection, and thanked her awkwardly for sitting with him the previous night. He was blushing, too, to Catherine's amusement. She thought he had a good excuse for his state, and only thought it amazing that he had been able to pull himself out of the spell. That was another thing unprecedented.

Emil turned up soon after lunch. He wanted to get a detailed account of events, but when he looked at Harry, Catherine said firmly that he was not to be bothered, and Harry was left with David, an extra auror whom Emil had brought with him.

The discussion excluded Harry, but Emil got a detailed account of the events from the aurors, all of whom had been present except for Malcolm, on night duty. It seemed that when Harry was bent on an action, no-one had been able to control him. A stunner aimed at his back had not even touched him. On the other hand, in spite of his fury, his actions had been controlled, and he had wound up merely stunning his attacker.

Emil left afterward to report to Percy, but David stayed as additional help.

No-one had referred to the attack to Harry, but he brought it up himself at dinner. "That man yesterday, Franz - they haven't let him go, have they?"

Franz answered, "Of course not! There were about six pumpkin-heads before yesterday - he'll be in prison for a long time."

"Am I in trouble for giving him a scare?"

Some of those present smiled at the understatement, but he was assured that he was not in trouble.

"I'll be fine for work tomorrow then - we'll need to catch up."

That night he told Franz quite casually that he'd be out all night, refusing to say where, and took himself to the French brothel, where he had a romp with Yvette and Katria, and then paid to spend the night with Katria. He thought he hardly ever had nightmares when he slept with a woman, but it was more that the woman would be roused by his fidgeting and moaning, and soothe him with female voice, and a caress.

Katria had a disturbed night, as Harry continually started into nightmares, but was each time pacified by Katria. The tiny woman worked hard for her money that night. She didn't begrudge it. Many of them had been sent early bequests a few years before, when Harry had fully expected to die, but hadn't quite. He'd sent them the assigned gifts anyway. And then Lolita discovered her diamond necklace to be real...

Harry had been popular in that establishment for years before those gifts, now he could do no wrong.

Two aurors unknown to Harry, were on guard outside in the cold. They knew where he went these days. Harry gave a glance in their direction when he emerged early in the morning, but only stepped out of sight and disapparated.

He was a lot better in the morning, and was back in his room doing his customary hour's meditation before joining the rest of the team for breakfast.

It was Wednesday, and the team had expected to be finished by Wednesday afternoon, but were well and truly behind. Harry seemed to have almost thrown off the effects of his brief incarceration, only his fits of trembling more frequent, and more sustained than normal. He needed his strong magic that day, and although everyone else disliked the feeling in the air, to Harry it felt good, like it felt good to extend muscles.

There was a request relayed from the Italians, and Harry removed the anti-disapparation charm that he had laid. He had forgotten doing it, and as his spells could not be broken by others, it had already become an inconvenience.

That evening, he slipped his bodyguards, and walked the streets for a long time. He was followed, the location devices on his shoes and on his glasses helping them track him down. Harry knew, but the bodyguards never approached him when they were pretending not to be there, and so he put up with it. If he really needed to be alone, he could soon vanish the devices that he was not supposed to know about.

He came home late and slept through the night, to Malcolm and David's relief, both of them, this time, guarding his door.

At breakfast the following morning, he mentioned that he may be fine for work, but was definitely too sick for any of Percy's ghastly formal dinners. But the dinner had already been cancelled. The aurors enjoyed the way he referred to pompous Mr. Weasley as 'Perce,' or 'Percy,' and assured him that he would not be expected to go to a formal dinner this time.

It was not until they were returning on the aeroplane that Franz spoke to Harry about what had happened, asking Harry what he had intended to do to the man.

"I would have thought it obvious," Harry answered. "I was going to burn him." And added, "I'm rather surprised you didn't try and stop me."

Franz said, startled, "But we did try! We were shouting, but you didn't appear to hear, and there was some sort of a barrier, and we couldn't get near. What could we do?"

Harry was looking at him. He didn't remember them shouting, and he didn't remember erecting a barrier. He heard what Franz was thinking, too, that Franz had tried to stun him, but that it hadn't connected. At length he just shook his head, "I don't know, and anyway, I changed my mind, so there's no harm done."

Franz asked him, "What made you change your mind? Fear of consequences?"

"I wasn't thinking about consequences at that stage, I just got a bit disgusted with myself. I'm not a killer, and when I've had to kill anyway, it's never been painful."

Franz remembered what he knew of Harry's history. Like all the aurors, he had seen film of him killing, but, as he said, he had not killed painfully. Ruthlessly maybe, coldly certainly, and he'd never shown the slightest sign of contrition - but his victims died happy.

Emil Schultz and Percy Weasley had some long discussions about Harry. Emil was very concerned that he'd been surrounded by aurors, and the aurors had been entirely helpless to prevent Harry Potter from doing exactly what he chose to do. Percy thought that Harry Potter was arrogant and out of control.

They tried to work out exactly what had happened, too, that Harry had appeared to be immune from interference. They finally came up with the theory that he had called up the strong magic that he used sometimes when doing his cures, but this time it had protected him from interference as he punished the man who had hurt him.

***chapter end***


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 3_:

Harry spent Christmas afternoon with the Abercrombies' large family. It appeared that Margaret had finally stopped having babies. She had wound up with nine children, six of them redheads. Sean appeared rather bewildered at times, but Margaret was very happy with her tribe. And Harry loved them all. Mary, the oldest, had a regular boyfriend, another Davenport, and Harry thought he'd have great grandchildren before long. Chris and Victoria, and their one son, joined them, too.

Euan and his wife, Sean's parents, dropped in for a while, and Harry and Euan talked a while, feet up in front of the fire, but a couple of the children interrupted, demanding that Harry join them tobogganing. And not long later, Euan, four years younger than Harry, watched, laughing, as Harry sped down the hillside with the kids, as gleeful as any of them as he ended up in a heap in the soft snow at the bottom. Euan was four years younger than Harry, but was ageing normally. Harry was still a young man in his body, although occasionally, something in his expression could look as old as the hills.

The overseas trips resumed in the middle of January, the team unchanged. Harry liked it that way.

Catherine was pleased to see that December's fright did not seem to have had any long-term effects on Harry, not knowing how badly he was sleeping. But Monday night, he put on a new pair of shoes and a spare pair of glasses, felt for any other location devices, and disapparated from within his room. He spent every night after that sleeping with an American tourist in her hotel, as an auror guarded his own empty room.

Thursday afternoon and Friday morning were occupied with patients mostly from adjoining countries, particularly Germany. And Harry irritated Franz again by condemning the practice of wizard duelling.

By the last patients before lunch, he was beginning to be very restless, pacing the floor between patients, and looking at his watch. Finally, he was finished, and announced that he would not be returning with the team, but would go separately, and he startled Franz by putting his wand to his own luggage where it waited, so that it vanished, and then silently disapparated himself.

And then he paced back and forth for a long time at home, before he relaxed. He hadn't been prying, but he'd known that Beth's baby was on its way, even though a couple of weeks early. And not long after, he had the first telepathic communication from Beth in nine months, the image of the tiny, light brown face of a baby girl, and an invitation to visit if he wanted.

Harry wanted, and only an instant later, he appeared outside Beth and Jeremiah's home, still wearing clothes suited for an English winter. Jeremiah waited for him, and Harry wrung his hand, congratulating him before he was led in to see the daughter he loved, and his new grand-daughter.

Beth had a glow of contentment, as she regarded her father, sitting with the tiny baby on his knee, touching the cheek and hands with the air of wonderment he always showed when he held a baby.

Harry stayed several days in a nearby tourist hotel, conjuring some clothes for himself more suitable for the climate. They were in startlingly vivid colours, but did not look as outlandish as usual in the tropical climate. He quickly found an accommodating brown lady to spend the nights with, and it seemed he had come to terms with the change of relationship with Beth. It had been incredible for a time, their communication absolute, and sex with a Telepath is always dynamite, and he had truly loved her besides. But Beth was right - he had felt a guilt, and as well as overwhelming loss when she had left with Jeremiah, there had been an element of relief.

Filled with pride, he sent a photograph of the baby and an announcement of the birth to the Daily Prophet when he returned. But there were some calculations made, and the birth of the baby rather less than nine months after Beth was known to have met Jeremiah fuelled the speculation about the baby's paternity. The black and white photograph did not show that the baby's complexion was distinctly brown, and there were some who swore that they could see a strong resemblance to Harry in the tiny features.

Harry was oblivious, and proudly conjured a picture in the air for the team to admire when they gathered for their next trip. He also showed them Beth and Jeremiah, and their Pacific Island home.

Franz was the only married man among them, and his wife, too, had recently had a baby. Harry's uncomplicated delight in his grandchild finally began to overcame the reservations that this tough and reserved man had always had about Harry Potter. Alex had been a devoted admirer from the first trip he had done with him, and Malcolm and Anthony had been friends for years, especially Anthony.

There were a lot of aurors whom Harry didn't know, and Emil preferred to keep it that way. Harry tended to inspire loyalty, and maybe one day they would need to restrain him. The file on Harry was beginning to be a lot thicker again, with full reports of the occasions when unusual abilities were shown. Even those conjured pictures of Beth's baby was a rare ability, though probably not a unique one.

Harry was careful, and showed as little as possible. He had not been seen to work magic without a wand, for instance, until the pumpkin-head incident, and then he'd been fighting.

One of the Swedish aurors who gave them additional protection on this trip was Harry's own accidental son, Helmer, even though he was not yet finished his training. Harry was very popular in the ranks of the Swedish aurors. He'd once rescued two of their number when they'd been turned into pumpkin-heads, and Helmer benefited from the connection.

Harry invited Helmer and his mother, Inge, with her new husband, to the formal dinner on Thursday night that Percy had asked Stan to organise. Stan was pleased. If Harry had his own guests, he would not slip out early as he'd begun to do lately, although he hadn't boycotted any entirely yet, as he'd done in the past.

Harry greeted Percy Weasley courteously when he arrived, and stayed with him a while before crossing to Helmer who had just arrived. Inge and her husband were muggles, and had decided to stay away. They didn't think that they actually liked the world of wizardry very much. Muggles were even more scorned by wizards in Sweden than they were in Britain.

Percy had started to notice something when he attended these functions. It was Harry Potter whom all those important people wanted to meet, not the British Minister for Magic. Ministers came and went, and were often not particularly special, just good at politics. But Harry was something very special, and Percy narrowed his eyes as the Swedish Minister abandoned him rather too abruptly, to join the group that surrounded Harry.

After the usual week off, there was to be a special trip, three weeks straight in North America, in three different centres of wizardry. They would not be returning at weekends, instead the team had been promised touring and activities, suited to the tastes of the legendary Harry Potter. The British Ministry was to be paid well by the wealthy American Ministry , and there were to be trade concessions as well. Stan McMillan was very pleased with himself for arranging this trip. Negotiations had been proceeding for months.

Harry never knew all the behind-the-scenes wheeling and dealing that went on, not to mention the work of organisation. He just turned up when and where required, and worked his magic.

His secretary kept an eye on his pay, and made sure that it was fair. She thought that the Ministry had taken wicked advantage of him when he had first started doing these trips. They'd been paying him a pittance, and even now he was not getting what he was worth. Harry Potter was unique. No-one else could do what he could do, and she thought that he should get as much as a world famous Quidditch player, for instance.

The first week in America was at a sunny beach in California. Harry loved it, and even put up with the indignity of needing a helping hand across the treacherous soft sand to get to the sea, although if there were few enough people around, he'd just make a short apparation instead. He could walk without trouble these days, only using a cane occasionally if the ground was a bit rough, or if he staggered for some reason. But rough ground was harder, and stones or soft sand were very difficult indeed.

One day, he was walking with Alex along the hard sand at low tide. They were both in swimmers, although Alex wore a loose shirt over the top, with his wand in the internal wand-pocket. Women were looking, especially at Harry. They both looked strong and athletic, but the one who carried a cane was something special. He strode along easily. Maybe he carried a cane just for effect.

Harry noticed something, and stopped and stared inland. There it was, and he pointed it out to Alex, "See that pink hotel over there - that's where I met Inge, Helmer's mother."

And Alex, with the tactlessness of youth, asked him, "Is it around here that you swam out to sea to find Ginny?"

Harry stared, "How do you know about that?"

Alex reddened. He hadn't meant to blurt out that Harry had once come so close to killing himself. He looked down, thoroughly uncomfortable, finally muttering. "It's in the training manual."

"A training manual! A training manual on me?"

Harry was amazed, not knowing whether to be angry or amused. Alex was sure that he'd be furious.

"What's in it?"

Alex was evasive. "Just a bit of history. Nothing to speak of."

Harry was shaking his head, and suddenly burst out laughing. "It's ridiculous," he finally said, still grinning, "I'd like to see it, though... I bet they don't put in it those times when the Ministry tried to put me away!"

Alex was staring at him in fascination. "There's something about a history of conflict with the Ministry, but it's not specific."

Harry turned, and walked away a little from the lapping wavelets, then sat, and Alex sat with him. "Tell me?" Alex asked.

Harry answered, although he hardly ever spoke about his own past. "Cornelius Fudge was the Minister for Magic. He thought that I had the potential to be too powerful, maybe another Voldemort. - You know about Voldemort?"

Alex nodded. "We do him in training, an example of what happens when a wizard is too powerful."

"A very wise man told me when I was just a kid that's it's not his abilities that makes a person what he is, it's his choices in life."

Suddenly Harry's eyes were looking at Alex with a more penetrating gaze. "Is there any hint these days that I should be put away, or put down?"

Alex said hurriedly, "No, nothing like that!"

"Pleased to hear it," said Harry. "Anyway, I was just twenty-four, and Fudge got a couple of mediwizards to sign the papers, and tried to have me committed. There was a team of aurors sent to take me. Dumbledore got me off. I never knew exactly what he did, but Fudge resigned and the committal papers were torn up."

Harry was looking at the breaking waves in front of him, remembering. "There were other times, too. It's why I go along with those damned formal functions that Perce likes so much. He's less likely to turn against me."

Alex thought himself very privileged, and pressed, "What about when they tried you for murder?"

"I never held that against them. They treated me very generously. Amelia Bones was Minister then. For a start, I was charged with unlawful killing, rather than murder, and the fact is, I did kill those men. And there was no point denying it, not with that film in existence."

Alex had seen the film. Those two films were shown in training, athough he didn't think it prudent to mention that. Harry continued, "Getting away with a suspended sentence was a miracle, for which I was profoundly grateful."

The end of Harry's cane had been temporarily modified for the sand. It looked a bit like a ski pole now, and he used it to keep his balance as he rose, and suggested, "Swim?"

Alex checked that Franz and an American auror were in sight, slipped off his shirt, and entered the water with Harry, helping him keep his balance in the first difficult bit before it was deep enough for Harry to swim, although Alex walked out further before himself striking out. And shortly, they were playing like boys, splashing and ducking each other, to the great amusement of the American auror, although humourless Franz had seen them play like that many times, and only kept his usual alert watch for attackers.

"I hear there's another illegitimate child, to his own daughter," said the American, casually.

Franz turned on him, suddenly icy. "That's nonsense! Beth is married to a black man, and the child is brown. He showed us a picture! In any case, Harry wouldn't do anything like that! He's a good man!"

The work was easy those first few days, and Harry and Alex swam every day after work, and often walked miles along the beach. They'd been extra aurors sent this time, so that time off could be arranged. Simon, Justin and Grant were all only about twenty, with David little older. Harry had enough playmates to keep him company. For a long time it had been Anthony who was the playmate, but Anthony was thirty now, and no longer played like a kid.

Thursday evening at dinner, Franz told them that they were to go to a Dude Ranch for the weekend. Harry's grin broadened as he looked around at the faces around him. To a greater or lesser extent, they nearly all showed consternation. "Can nobody ride a horse?" he finally asked.

Anthony said, "I broke an arm last time I rode with you!"

"So you did. I'd forgotten. But it's really easy. Just like a broomstick with a broader back. And it's not as far to the ground, either!"

Catherine sat with them, a growing smile on her face. It was so long since she'd ridden a horse. She couldn't wait.

"I used to ride when I was a kid," said Justin.

But Harry looked at Justin. Justin was six feet, six inches high, and he had a sudden vision of him riding a horse, feet dragging on each side.

Simon put in, "I'm a city boy. I've scarcely even seen a horse."

"Me, neither," said big, burly Grant.

Harry leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head, "Well, _I'm_ going to enjoy myself, anyway! I think it's a great idea."

Franz added, "Four of you can have the weekend off, so work it out between you if you can, and we'll decide who goes, and who would prefer to be absent. They can join us at the next place."

"What's the name of the place?" asked Harry.

"Ponderosa," answered Franz. "It's a muggle place."

"Ponderosa," repeated Harry. "Jack and Sheila Clarkson?"

Franz nodded, "Clarksons, but not Jack and Sheila."

Harry was quiet as he finished his meal, but not to the surprise of Franz, he joined him after.

"I've been there before, a few times. I was in my twenties, and they were not married then. Jack might not remember me, but Sheila would. They're muggles, I don't think they'd understand that I still look pretty much the same."

Franz admitted, "That could be a problem, but probably their children or relatives run it now. I'll check."

"The rest of you could go, I'll just go off by myself for the weekend," suggested Harry.

"You know that's not possible," said Franz, without a smile. "You must be protected."

"Why?" said Harry. "No-one's trying to kill me these days, except the one in Italy, and that was a one-off."

"Don't be silly! You must be protected."

Harry shrugged, and went to his room, carrying a thick book that he'd purchased that day. Once in his room he changed his shoes, and his glasses with the location devices, and disapparated to join the woman he'd spent the last few nights with. She had tickets for a show...

Half an hour later, Franz knocked on his door. When there was no answer, he finally opened it, to see the book lying unopened on the bed. There was a pair of shoes on the floor, glasses on the table, and Harry's cape flung carelessly across a chair. Franz swore, crudely, in German. They went to so much trouble to protect that cursed man...

Harry apparated back into his room the following morning, a half-eaten piece of toast in his hand. Malcolm waited inside his room. Harry looked at him. "Sprung?"

Malcolm confirmed, "Sprung!"

Harry shrugged, "See you at breakfast?"

Malcolm nodded, and took up guard outside, wondering just how many times he'd guarded an empty room.

Meantime, Harry did his usual hour's meditation, and went to breakfast to face the music. But he ate unperturbed as Franz lectured him. When Franz finally paused for breath, he asked, "What about the Dude Ranch?"

Franz took a deep breath. He didn't think he liked Harry very much at the moment. But he said, "No problem. Jack Clarkson's dead, and Sheila Clarkson is in a Nursing Home with severe Dementia."

Harry looked up, profoundly shocked. "Not Sheila!"

He was abstracted then, upset. Sheila had been such fun. A vibrant redhead - he'd always been a sucker for redheads. She used to ride a showy Appaloosa, while he rode with her, usually on a tall piebald called Bob. She'd neglected the other guests a bit when Harry was there, but then one day she'd kissed him, and asked him not to come again. She was going to marry Jack Clarkson.

The team had been supposed to leave straight after lunch, but three extra patients had been unearthed - old ones, the ones that were so often difficult. Justin was rostered to be in the room with him that day, and as usual, there were a half dozen observers from the host country.

The first time Harry had called up the strong magic, he cured the patient without incident, and was allowing the magic to die from the air when there was a crash from behind. He jumped, and the magic ceased. Holding his paining head, he turned. Justin had fainted, Catherine already at his side.

Harry joined her. "What happened?"

"Fainted." said Catherine. "He'll be fine, but maybe he should swap jobs."

Harry nodded, "Some of them feel it more than others, but I didn't think I made it all that strong this time." There were quiet comments and rustles from the observers, but none had fled the room.

Justin put a hand to his head, and moaned, opening his eyes.

"Sorry," said Harry. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

He was suddenly spun around and hugged by the patient who had been occupied for the last few minutes patting all over his own body, feeling his own smoothness.

"Ouch!" Harry said, his head paining more at the sudden movement, and he started to tremble. Catherine called a half hour break, while both Justin and Harry recovered.

Grant took over Justin's job, and stood totally unmoved as Harry called up the strong magic for a second time, and then a third. Harry was hungry and tired afterward, and no trouble to Franz, who was quite pleased at his obvious weariness.

**x**

The following day, Harry and Catherine galloped along a track, Anthony and Franz trying valiantly to keep them in sight, and Joe Clarkson hoping desperately that no-one would fall off and sue them. Didn't that mad Harry Potter use a stick when he walked? But glory, he could ride!

It was an enjoyable weekend for Harry and for Catherine at the Dude Ranch, although few of the others enjoyed it much.

Franz was becoming increasingly harried, and planned to ask for a rest from Harry, who had vanished both nights to join the woman he had spent the previous week with. He was away a couple of hours on Sunday afternoon, too.

A young girl had looked at Harry with distinct interest, but it was not returned. He never went with young girls, he'd always preferred experienced women who were a lot less likely to be hurt by a temporary lover. The girl consoled Justin instead, helping him overcome his shame at fainting in front of witnesses. He was a big, tough auror; he was not supposed to faint like a pregnant girl!

The next week, a different location - a big city. Harry now found so many location devices in his clothing that he went through the lot, systematically removed them, and dumped them all in front of Franz at dinner. "I will not be followed when I don't choose to be," he said flatly. "So stop playing underhanded tricks!"

Franz was very angry, but there was not much he could do about it. Harry was the reason they were all there, and Harry was not a prisoner.

He made up for it a little, saying casually over dessert, "I'm planning to have a wander around town tonight, if someone would like to come."

Franz asked coolly, "Who do you want?"

Harry grinned at him, "Anyone who's not currently being furious with me."

Poor Franz finally laughed, and said he'd ask for a volunteer.

Anthony and Harry explored the town, Harry eying a brothel with interest. The aurors knew about the French brothel, and he didn't want to risk his ability to apparate continent to continent becoming known. Wizards were only supposed to be able to apparate a few hundred miles. In any case, he couldn't remember what the time difference was. It was no good arriving when they were closed.

It was late, and Anthony and Harry were drinking quietly and talking. They knew each other very well by now. But Harry suddenly put down his drink, and looked into the distance. "Simon's in trouble!" he stated. "He's somewhere close. I'm going to him. I'll meet you back at the hotel," and he slipped out of sight behind a pillar, and disapparated, leaving Anthony open-mouthed.

Harry reappeared silently, close to where baby-faced, blonde Simon gazed blearily at a large, flashily handsome man, who had his hand cosily around his shoulders. Simon was trying to remember that he was a wizard and an auror, and that he should defend himself, but the drug in his drink was fast-working.

Harry smoothly approached. "Hello, Simon, I thought you might be ready to go home, now."

Simon peered at him, apparently finding it a bit difficult to see, but then extended a shaking hand, "Harry!"

The dark man held Simon a little closer to himself. "He's mine, go away!"

Harry looked at him, "Pretty pathetic if you have to drug a boy to get what you want!"

It was urgent to get Simon away, and he used his magic. The man stood back, dropping his arm, and Harry grabbed Simon as he started to fall. "Come on, Simon, you've got to walk," he said compellingly, and Simon fought off the effects of the drug and walked with him into the empty corridor, where Harry wrapped his right arm around him, his left still holding his cane, and apparated into the sitting room of the hotel that the group had been allocated for the duration of their stay.

Franz looked up surprised, getting to his feet in alarm, as Harry gently put Simon down on the couch. "I reckon his drink was spiked. Catherine here?"

Grant was there too, but no-one else. Catherine was swiftly roused, appearing in a dressing gown. "He's fine, he'll sleep it off."

Harry was still standing. "I'm going to go beat up the bloke who did it, and maybe a couple more. You can give me back one of those location devices if you want to come and help."

Franz and Grant rose, both looking grim and dangerous. "We'll come, just tell us where."

"Sorry, I don't know where. I can find it, but you'll just have to find me - you're pretty good at that, aren't you?"

Franz delved in his pocket, handed over a tiny device which Harry slipped into his own pocket, and disapparated, precisely into the corridor of the hotel. There was already a fierce grin on Harry's face. He hadn't done this in a while, and this man had attacked one of his team!

It had only been a short while since Harry had taken Simon away, and Rudy was still staring around, confused, wondering where his prey had gone. But then there was this other attractive man, black haired, not too big, and approaching him. The expression was wrong, and Rudy was hesitant.

"You were going to rape my friend," accused Harry, and Rudy said no, of course not, he wasn't planning to rape anybody, wondering how best to get this man in a position to be raped instead. He let his eyes rove down the body in front of him, wanting to see him without clothes.

"Tell you what," said Harry, "If you can knock me out with your fists instead of with drugs, you just might get what you want!"

Now Rudy stood, anticipating. He'd done a lot of boxing, had Rudy, and he was much bigger than the man in front of him, and probably stronger.

But Harry was listening to those around him. It wasn't just Rudy here who was a potential danger to him, and his eyes searched and his mind listened unashamedly. Unless Franz and Grant turned up, he might indeed find himself raped. He turned on those others, and again used his magic. "Only this one," he said compellingly. "No-one else is to interfere."

The others subsided, disappointed, not even wondering why they were instantly prepared to obey. There had been some thoughts of a line-up. In spite of glasses and a cane, Harry was a very attractive man, and Rudy was not the only one who relished an unwilling, if unconscious victim.

Harry turned back to Rudy. "Where would you like to go? It would be a touch uncivilised, don't you think, to wreck the bar." Harry would have been quite prepared to wreck the bar, as the barmen were almost certainly complicit in the drugging of drinks, but it would be too easy to trip up. "My name's Harry," he said, as he tended to do when he was going to have a fight. It was like a declaration of intent.

The other answered briefly, "Rudy," and led the way outside, and around the corner into a poorly lit alley. He'd used this alley before, for other purposes.

But now, as soon as he entered, he spun around, and tried to catch Harry by surprise. But Harry was fighting, and as always, his handicaps seemed to disappear when fighting. He dodged the bare minimum to avoid the fist, and followed it straight away with a stinging blow that connected hard with Rudy's sternum, making him gasp for breath.

Rudy recovered quickly, and it was becoming obvious that this was no novice whom Harry had taken on.

There was a ring of watchers now, soon joined by Anthony, led by the sound of barracking, and then by Franz and Grant. Only Anthony had seen Harry fight before, and Harry still fought joyfully. It was only in a muggle fist fight that Harry felt he could fully extend himself, without restraint, and he was overjoyed to find himself with such a good match, forgetting the likely consequences if he was defeated.

He'd flung away his cane. It was in the way, and when Rudy shattered his glasses, he threw them away, too. But somehow he no longer needed cane and glasses, and now he abandoned all restraint and hammered hard into the body of the large man in front of him until Rudy backed away, holding his hands up in surrender.

Harry stopped fighting, but said quietly, "Repeat after me! - I will never rape another man, or another woman."

Rudy repeated it, woodenly.

"I will never drug anyone's drink," and again, it was repeated.

Harry stepped back, "I think you'd best go home now."

Rudy turned, and without a backward glance, limped off.

Harry looked around at the ring of watchers. They were blurry, in the gloom and without his glasses, but he always had a sense of others when they were close, and he knew that Franz, Anthony and Grant were all there. There were four of them, and although wizards were seldom much good at fist fighting, these were aurors. What fun to have a full on brawl.

"Franz?" he said, "Half of these bastards would have had a go at Simon - what do you say we beat them all up?"

Harry still wore that fierce grin, but he picked up his cane from where it lay. It was too easy to lose his balance without that cane.

Franz, Anthony and Grant joined him, standing side by side, looking at the mob in front of them, which, however, fairly quickly dissolved, and Franz finally asked Harry, "Back to the hotel?"

Harry nodded. "Shortly. I want to find a bakery or something. I'm hungry."

Grant picked up some twisted, broken glasses, tapped them with his wand, and returned them to Harry.

"Thanks," said Harry, "That's a lot better."

Not long after they sat in the sitting room back at the hotel, eating pies and sausage rolls, and drinking coffee, with the noise of talk and laughter getting louder until a very polite hotel employee pointed out that they were disturbing the other guests, and they finally went to bed.

Simon was still groggy in the morning, but Catherine had a look at him, said he'd be fine, and they left him with Grant, while most of the others went to work. Harry had a very swollen black eye, but Catherine had some of that wonderful violet lotion, and it was scarcely visible by the time Harry casually waved his wand at the first patient, who had been furry now for three years.

Harry had finally won over grim Franz, who would never be an enemy to him. Thinking about the incident afterward, Harry rather wished that it had ended in an all-out brawl. Franz so often disapproved of him, it would have been good to be in a fight with Franz at his side.

Thinking about the incident afterward, Franz was profoundly grateful that it hadn't ended in an all-out brawl. Harry Potter had too much influence over them all, he thought, even himself, sometimes.

Anthony had been vague about how Harry had known Simon was in trouble, and as Franz felt that the aurors had lost face, the incident was given only a very bare and uninformative mention in the daily report.

That Saturday, there was a big Quidditch match to go to, and later, there was an opportunity to fly broomsticks. This was the first time that Harry had been on a broomstick for years. Not unexpectedly, he discovered the veer to the left to be a lot more pronounced than it had been before his illness. On Catherine's prompting, he closed his eyes, and tried to fly straight across the pitch, and Catherine ascertained the deviation to be nearly thirty degrees.

It was amazing that he could walk so well, let alone ride a horse, or get into fist fights! Doing it several times more, for curiosity's sake, he found a variation. It wasn't even consistent, and he had confirmed what he had already concluded. He didn't think he would ever again be able to apparate to coordinates, as the error was not consistent enough to be allowed for. He thought that he'd always need a cane, as well, but there had been months when he'd not been able to even raise a drink to his lips. He thought himself very lucky to have recovered so well, and he took his borrowed broomstick very high, away from obstacles, and went into a spectacular corkscrew roll, at breakneck speed.

When he dived to the ground afterward though, he went cautiously. It would be too easy to hurt himself, and he decided that he'd best stick to horses.

With their increased friendliness, Franz ventured to ask Harry where he went those times he disappeared. Harry said casually that it was a woman most times. And when Franz asked about the previous Sunday afternoon, admitted that he'd gone to see Sheila.

Sheila had known him instantly, and they'd reminisced for a long time. With her dementia, it didn't seem strange to her that he looked almost exactly the same, and no-one was going to take notice of her when she spoke about him later.

Harry, however, had been very saddened. She was frail, white-haired - he remembered her so differently. That night, Sheila had quietly died. No-one notified Harry, as no-one knew that he had anything to do with her. But when Harry thought about her a couple of days later, he suddenly knew that she was dead.

Saturday afternoon, they were joined by Percy Weasley, Stan McMillan, and Jebedee Shacklebolt in his role as head of Public Relations. Harry was pleased to see Jebedee, but a lot less pleased when they told him that there was to be a big formal dinner that night, followed by a day when they would inspect the important wizarding areas of New York, see a few of the major tourist sights, and Percy would give a speech at Kandidria School of Magic. Harry Potter was firmly requested to be there, and Jebedee, in a quiet aside, mentioned that it would be wise to play up to Mr. Weasley as much as possible. He'd been hearing whispers...

Harry tried to be very well behaved Saturday night, showing an impeccable courtesy to the various American dignitaries, and paying sufficient attention to long and boring speeches that he was not taken by surprise when he was called up to receive yet another meaningless award.

There were several attractive young women present, who all seemed to want to make a fuss of him. But they were blatant, they were witches, and he suddenly abandoned his usual courteous restraint, opened his mind to the most persistent, and recoiled, shocked. She was there for a purpose. America wanted its own powerful wizard, and it was known that some of Harry's children had unusual abilities. Helmer was very powerful, and although Beth was a bit of a mystery, Julia had been exceptional until she had been killed by a Death Curse meant for her father.

Witches were very good at becoming pregnant if they wished, just as long as the man allowed the bare possibility. This woman wanted his baby, for the prestige of being the mother of a baby of Harry Potter. Harry felt sick, and looked for escape.

But now Percy was presenting yet another important and senior witch to him, and he was again congratulated on his new medal, and asked about his magic. He suddenly felt a mental message coming from Jebedee. _Keep your cool, Harry. Put up with it. Only a few more hours!_

Harry looked with some desperation at Jebedee, but tried again to put on the polite mask, and after all, it was not this witch who had come up with the idea of using him as a stud.

A little later, his drink was renewed, and he took a sip, his brow creased, and he took another careful taste before tipping it in a pot plant in front of the forward young woman, still hovering close in spite of rebuffs. He looked at her frowningly, and she was suddenly ashamed of herself, put down her own drink and left the room.

But now Harry could stand it no longer, spoke quietly to Catherine, who nodded, and took his arm as if helping him. His excuse was to be sickness, and a fortuitous fit of trembling came to his aid as he took a quiet leave of Percy, who was again talking to the American Minister. Franz and Simon followed him out of the room.

The trembling stopped the moment he was out of the room, and Harry strode toward his own suite, Franz by his side, and Catherine and Simon behind. He was looking very black now.

"Who's on guard tonight?" he suddenly asked Franz.

"Justin and Grant," answered Franz, wondering what his bad temper was all about. "There are a few Americans patrolling the corridors, too."

"Warn Justin and Grant, then, that on no account to let anyone into my room, _particularly_ not a girl!"

"They wouldn't do that without permission from you," asserted Franz, rather shocked.

"One did, once, and it was not a good idea," and added, "You can come in if you want, unless you'd rather go back to that ghastly affair."

"Why the upset, Harry?" asked Franz.

Harry looked at him, started to speak, and suddenly blushed instead, to the great amusement of Simon, especially. And he only said that he was quite good at finding his own women, and he found it offensive that they tried to set him up with one.

And then they talked about Quidditch. Franz had been Beater in his school days, although Simon had never made the team at Hogwarts. Catherine picked up a book from a table, and started to read. It was not light reading, but Catherine was a very intelligent lady, and became so involved that she didn't even notice when Simon and Franz left.

Harry regarded her with amusement. He liked intelligent women, and she had unhesitatingly come to his aid when he had wanted to pretend to illness. A pity she was married.

He quietly changed his clothes, told Justin and Grant on guard outside that he was going out, ignored with sublime indifference their pleas to tell them where he was going, and visited the French brothel in spite of an earlier decision to avoid it. He had a wonderful time too. He really adored Lolita, she was so frankly honest, in contrast to those sly little hussies he'd met at the dinner.

Catherine was gone when he returned, the book left behind, but a place carefully marked. Justin waited, feet up, reading a girlie magazine. He jumped as Harry silently apparated back into a corner of the room. Not long later, they firmly denied entry to an auburn haired beauty in a revealing green robe.

The following day, Harry was being docile again. Catherine assured people that after the health scare of the previous night, Harry seemed fine, and Simon had been primed to stay by his side all day - and if people thought that his tastes had changed, it was all to the good. And during that long and tedious day, Harry made sure to ask Percy about his children, and Bill and Charlie, whom he hadn't seen in a long time, and made conversation about Meg, Vicky and James, his own children, and Percy's nieces and nephew. They shared family in common, Harry and Percy, and surely Percy wouldn't turn on him. Maybe he only needed a reminder...

Jebedee knew that Harry always refused interviews, but had arranged for a few pictures to be taken, and Harry put up with it.

American reporters knew no restraint, however, and Harry became increasingly annoyed at their persistence. He allowed the Americans to take photographs in a couple of locations, but then said firmly that it was enough. He even told the American PR man that if he was pestered further, he would go home and not come back.

The American looked at him, saw his annoyance, thought of the story he'd recently heard - that he'd only just been prevented from burning a wizard to death, and the reporters were sent away.

An auburn haired woman and a brazen blonde had no chance to approach Harry, but Grant and Justin spent a lot of time entertaining them, and the two young women spent the night at the hotel after all, just not in Harry's room. There would be no pregnancies. It was not the children of ordinary aurors that they'd been trying for.

***chapter end***


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 4:_

The third week, New York, and a heavy week had been scheduled, including many old, old cases. For a change they had taken notice of Harry, and they were distributed through the week.

Percy and Stan stayed in the hotel, although not usually present in the day. They spent their time in meetings and official functions while the team worked. Jebedee stayed around, sometimes taking photographs, and making notes on cured patients. He thought Harry needed a bit of positive publicity. Anti-Harry feeling was growing, and rumours about the parentage of Beth's baby were circulating widely.

It was a tough week for Harry, although he tried to use the telepathic method of curing whenever it was not too bitterly resented. There seemed to be a constant supply of new observers, and once Harry forgot to warn a newcomer and was interrupted as he began to weave the strong magic in the air. He was brushed aside in the man's urgency to flee, and wound up sitting on the floor, dizzy, and holding his head in pain.

Half an hour later, though, he completed the job.

Catherine had a serious talk with him that evening. Twice she'd seen him hurt when he was interrupted when he was calling up the strong magic, even though once it was at the end, when it was dying down, and once he was just beginning. Maybe it was just too dangerous, and he admitted that there had been an occasion when interrupted, that he'd had a major fit and hadn't been able to work again for days.

He thought about it carefully. He liked the strong magic. It felt good to him, even if other people disliked it, and occasionally, like Justin, couldn't tolerate it at all. He hated to fail his patients. He was not good at the telepathic method - not nearly as good as Beth, even though it was Harry who had invented it. So should he leave some patients uncured because he was frightened of interruptions?

He went to Franz, and they decided to put a ban on observers when he did those type of cures. That would eliminate some potential for interruptions. But also he quizzed Franz further about exactly what had happened straight after the pumpkin-head incident. It seemed he had managed to protect himself from interruption then, even from a stun spell, although he was quite unsure whether it was the same thing as when he worked his cures. Maybe he needed to try and add something to protect himself, some extra magic, as he added the ingredient to keep the patient calm. He'd have to put some thought into it. He wasn't quite sure how to go about it. There was no-one to give him any hints. Power-wise, he was a long way out on his own.

That was Wednesday. Wednesday evening, there were yet more important dignitaries join them at dinner, and two goodlooking women for no stated reason, and Harry again roped in Simon to stay close, and, as he said, protect him from rape.

Wednesday night, weary, Harry went to his room, Justin and Grant following him to take up guard. He paused outside, feeling, and a frown crossed his face, suddenly replaced by a look of wicked glee, and he went in search of black-haired David. Justin followed him, leaving Grant at the door. Harry was very heavily protected in America, although it seemed to Harry that he was only in danger of illegitimate children.

David was persuaded, Harry conjured some clear glasses for him, and Justin, in on the joke, carefully drew in a couple of scars on the face of David. That night, Harry slept peacefully in David's bed, and David put up not the slightest resistance to the seduction of the woman who had been waiting in Harry's room. They were both happy.

David appeared with deep scratch marks on his face in the morning, though. He didn't particularly want illegitimate children either, and early that morning, still on and in the woman, he admitted that his name was David. He was lucky she didn't have her wand close!

Catherine refused to treat his scratches, and tore his character to shreds, deaf to protests from David that the woman had enjoyed herself, and after all, it was she who had done the seducing. David had just gone along with what she wanted...

Harry was ashamed of himself. It was a nasty trick. Justin and Grant thought it was hilarious.

Franz, when he found out, was disapproving again, but disapproving of the woman, too. Waiting concealed in Harry's room, and, as David told it, swaying forward seductively, in sexy underwear, the moment he himself had started to undress. It was shameless behaviour. It was a breach of security, too. It could as easily have been an assassin waiting for Harry.

Still two days to go, and they were not to fly home until Saturday.

For a change Thursday was very easy, and they were finished early. Harry went back to California after work, enjoying the familiar beach again, and the woman there whom he liked so much. He said his goodbyes Friday morning, before reappearing in his hotel room, to find Justin waiting again, dozing in the comfortable chair that Harry had conjured for himself. Mostly he conjured one every evening and vanished it in the morning, before the cleaning lady appeared.

When Justin woke, over an hour later, there was another identical chair in the other corner, and Harry was in the shower, whistling, not very tunefully.

Friday there were a lot of patients again, but again they were all extremely easy, and again they were quickly finished.

Franz waited for Harry, though, saying that Harry absolutely had to attend the dinner that evening.

Harry sighed. "I might disappear again for a year or two," he said. "I'm getting awfully tired of Perce!"

Franz was shocked. "He's the Minister of Magic! You owe him respect!"

Harry tiredly shook his head. He had tried hard to do what Percy wanted, but he was not confident. There was no logical reason that he should be attacked, but there had been no logical reason for Fudge or Daunt to attack him, either. But Percy was a Weasley, and he had always been so close to the Weasleys. Ron Weasley had been his best friend from the time they were eleven to the time he had died. And Ginny Weasley had been his wife.

He found Alex and David in their allotted sitting room. "Three hours free before dinner," he said. "I thought I might just go walking. I could just slip out, of course, if no-one wants to come."

But Franz had just entered. "No, you will not! I'll go with you myself."

Harry smiled at him. "Great, why not? I'd rather have someone with me - I've always disliked being followed." But Franz had already issued his instructions. Anthony and Malcolm were to follow, hopefully inconspicuously.

So Harry and Franz walked and talked. Franz was missing his family, and said that his wife was complaining that he was away so often, and this time it had been three weeks straight.

Harry said, "I wish I had a wife. I was always happiest when I was married. But first Ginny died, and then there was Luna, and she died."

Franz watched him. He'd never seen that expression on Harry's face before. He wondered - what sort of person would it take to be a match for Harry? He was so different now.

Even though Franz was so often annoyed with him, he had developed a profound respect for him. It was not just his magic - he'd recently published another book, and just a couple of weeks ago, there had been some highly respected American intellectuals who had become involved in some very deep discussions with Harry about his theories. Catherine had been listening intently, although not contributing. Simon had been assigned to be close that day, and Franz had watched with amusement as his expression had only become more and more baffled.

They turned their steps back to the hotel, when Harry stopped and retreated behind some parked cars.

"What's the matter?" asked Franz.

"An ambush, I think." said Harry. "Either I'm wrong about no longer being in danger, or someone else is the target." And he turned, looking behind. "We need to warn Anthony and Malcolm."

"Can you tell more exactly?" said Franz.

Harry looked toward the hotel, searching in his mind, even closing his eyes to better concentrate. Franz, irrespective of muggles, had drawn his wand.

Anthony and Malcolm were alert now, and they, too, had drawn their wands.

Harry regarded Franz. "If I show you what I can do, I'll be in more danger from the Ministry . If I don't show you what I can do, someone could get hurt. - It would be good if you told no-one."

"Show me what you can do," said Franz.

Harry, from his shelter, pointed. "There's a muggle with a high-powered rifle up there, another one across the road, and yet another even closer. I can stun them or I can kill them, and from here. They have every intention of mowing us all down in order not to miss me. There's good money promised, it seems."

"Any idea who's behind it?"

"No idea. I thought I was relatively safe these days, but it seems it's open season again."

Franz said, "I suppose you'd best stun them, then we'll do something about them."

So Harry closed his eyes again, concentrated, and a muggle fell. Twice more, and one of the guns discharged as it fell, but only damaged a few walls. Harry carefully scanned the surroundings again as Franz watched.

"I think it's OK," he finally said, "No guarantees - it might be best to apparate."

Franz waved to Anthony and Malcolm. Harry had not been supposed to see them, but it was obvious now that he'd known all along that they were there.

What to do with the gunmen was a problem. Harry suggested casually that the aurors kill them and leave it to the muggles to deal with the bodies, but law-abiding Franz was shocked.

"They're only killers," pointed out Harry, "And the only evidence against them is that they've got large guns."

But Franz only had Harry point out more precisely the positions of the stunned men, went himself to check that Harry wasn't hallucinating, and then sent Harry back to the hotel, apparating, and himself liaised with the American aurors to have the matter dealt with.

**x**

Harry just had time for a swim in the heated hotel pool before changing for dinner. Simon was with him, watching as he swam. Word spread quickly, and a woman with a beautiful body appeared, flaunting herself, although swimming awkwardly, with much splashing, when she finally slid into the pool. Simon watched her avidly.

Harry ignored her, although she checked him over fairly thoroughly when he pulled himself out. Simon was a goodlooking boy, but she didn't seem willing to accept him, even as a consolation prize.

The dinner took its usual tedious course, Percy preening himself as the American Minister spoke of annual visits by the team, the need for it an inevitable consequence of the ancient and respected tradition of wizard duelling. Percy nodded in complacent agreement.

Harry watched from a distance, and he knew that it had not been Percy who had wanted him dead. Percy seemed to be happy with him again.

Franz thought very carefully about the abilities that Harry had betrayed that evening. And in the end, the only mention of the incident in his report was that Harry had suspected danger for no observable reason, and had apparated straight to his bedroom from a couple of blocks away. Harry's feeling for danger was well known. There was nothing new in that.

Harry was impatient to go home. He could just send his luggage home, and apparate himself, but that would be another betrayal of his abilities, and he'd done enough for one day. He was beginning to think more seriously of dropping out of sight again. If he had not felt the danger, and if he had not been able to feel for the minds of his intending attackers, he and Franz, and very likely a few innocent passers by, would have been messily dead by now.

Maybe he could just pretend to be gone, and hide out at home. It was still relatively hidden, as only those to whom he had told the coordinates personally would be likely to remember it - his home was well protected with magic.

He wasn't sleepy, and invited all the aurors and Catherine into his suite for a final party. They had done a lot in the past three weeks, and Catherine finally consented to fix the nasty scratches on David's cheek.

Harry's suite was large, and was surrounded by the rooms of the aurors, so there was no need to be particularly quiet, and the young men became more and more rowdy, as Catherine watched them disapprovingly.

Even Franz was laughing uproariously as they drank the bar fridge dry. He was telling Simon what Harry had said, "Just kill them - They're only killers!"

Harry thought again what a simple solution it would have been. He didn't really understand their objections. Harry himself might have been in trouble if he'd done it, but the aurors would not have been...

**x**

Three days later, Monday afternoon, Jebedee and Zack appeared in the Apparation Zone of Harry's home. Harry and Kinsman could be seen a couple of paddocks away, putting on a bucking bronco show. The beautiful black gelding had neither saddle nor bridle, although he wore a loose halter.

Jebedee and Zack could see even from that distance that Harry was laughing, clinging to his back without the slightest apparent trouble. Chris Barnes, a small child on his shoulders, watched him.

The two wizards were unobserved at first, until two small terrier type dogs raced to them, yapping wildly, and drawing attention to their presence. Harry looked up, but Kevin was quicker, hobbling closer, calling, "Marcus, Judas. That's enough," and patting them. "Well done!"

The tall black horse had thrown his head up, looking in their direction, and Jebedee was not surprised when Harry stayed on the horse, casually jumping a fence, to join them. The little dogs were sitting at the side of Kevin now, very alert, until a tabby cat strolled up to one, and, with sudden viciousness, whacked it twice on the nose. The dog retreated, backing away, tail between its legs.

Zack was finally working again, in the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. He was no longer fit enough to be an auror, and probably never would be again.

Jebedee noticed several newspapers untidily on the coffee table.

Harry saw him looking, and said, "Just trying to work out whether it might be prudent to leave the country again for a year or two. Some people don't seem to like me much these days..."

"It's only a minority," said Jebedee, "And Weasley's tickled pink with the success of the trip to America."

"I heard one of the aurors had to be rescued," said Zack. "Bit of a slap in the face for them."

Harry grinned. "Franz was hoping to keep that quiet. He raked me down so often for going out without a bodyguard, and it was one of his own that got into trouble. I'm really very good, on the whole."

"That's not what I heard," said Zack. "He was complaining bitterly at lunch today, although when Emil asked him whether he wished to be replaced, he said that he didn't. He reckons that no-one else could manage mad Harry like he could!"

Harry laughed. "I'm not really that mad. The thing is that it's useful to have them around while I work, but afterwards, it's only a signal of my presence. I'm a lot safer when I'm alone and no-one knows who I am," and Harry, for a moment, looked a bit sad and tired. "But, of course, it never has been just for my safety, has it?" and both the ex-aurors looked uncomfortable.

"No death attempts lately then?" asked Jebedee.

"Not for ages until last Friday, and that was nasty!"

"I didn't hear that."

"Franz agreed to keep it quiet, but it was a bit worrying. I was going through the hate mail as well this morning, trying to work out who was responsible. I can't think of any particular reason for someone to want me dead at the moment."

"What exactly happened?" asked Zack.

"It needs to be kept quiet," warned Harry. "The thing is..." and he reddened a bit, "I sort of made myself a bit obvious - but it would have been a bloodbath! They had high powered muggle weapons, and were prepared to kill everyone in sight."

Jebedee was surprised, "They were muggles?"

Harry nodded, "I don't know why they didn't try guns years ago - I might be able to hit away a spell - mostly, but not a bullet, and certainly not a stream of bullets! A friend suggested once that it was probably just snobbery - that most wizards scorn muggle weapons."

"You're not telling it very well," pointed out Zack.

"No, I'm not, am I?" said Harry. "What happened is that Franz and I were walking back to the hotel, Anthony and Malcolm were behind, pretending not to be there, the way aurors do - and we were about to walk into an ambush. Anyway, I felt the danger, searched, and felt the men waiting. They were to get the black-haired man with glasses and a cane - and not to worry if there were other casualties. There was to be a large payment. But it's still possible that it was a case of mistaken identity."

"So what happened then?" said Jebedee.

"I stunned them from under cover, and Franz looked after it from there." said Harry. "And that's why Franz agreed to keep it quiet. If Percy knew I could do something like that, he'd be after me straight away. But I think Percy's OK, now - like you said, he had a wonderful time in America - just what he likes, lots of attention to lap up."

Jebedee and Zack were thinking over his words.

"What do you mean when you said you searched?" Zack finally asked.

Harry hesitated. He was so much in the habit of keeping very quiet about his abilities, but this had been dangerous, and he fully trusted Zack and Jebedee. They wouldn't turn against him. And he finally said, but looking at the wall, "Telepathy. I was able to pick them out, they were waiting, concentrating, and it stuck out a mile."

"How many?" asked Jebedee.

"Three men with high-powered repeater type rifles - there were lots of people around, too. It wouldn't have just been me and Franz get killed - that's why I'm worried. Nearly always, they've just gone for me."

Jebedee said, "The Auror Department would like to know."

But Harry shook his head. "I don't trust Emil, I don't want them knowing."

They nodded, Jebedee still frowning.

"So anyway," said Harry, "I thought you might just keep your ears open - let me know, maybe, if you hear anything."

**x**

There were no further clues as to who was responsible for the attempted murder in New York, and there were no further indications that Harry was in that sort of danger again. Maybe it _was_ just a case of mistaken identity... Some crime figures were gunned down, but that was always happening in America, and Harry never heard that one of those men habitually carried a cane, after a knee capping when he was very young.

Percy Weasley didn't seem to be worrying about Harry being too powerful, and still enjoyed appearing at formal dinners with the team, usually the last night they were in a country. Harry continued to tolerate the functions, finding it easier now, as there were nearly always people invited in whom he was interested. And that had a side benefit; If Harry was involved in deep discussion with intellectuals, the important beaurocrats were less likely to abandon Percy in order to join him.

Beth made a short trip to England in April, black Jeremiah looking exotic at her side. They had their baby with them, of course, and the tiny girl's skin colour made it obvious that Harry could not be her father. They were seen in Diagon Alley, where they strolled for a while with Harry, before visiting Fortescues for the traditional ice-cream.

Harry saw many people he knew, and most of them came to say hello, filled with curiosity about this scarcely known daughter of Harry Potter, her impressive husband, and her baby - obviously brown. Some were disappointed, it had been such a delicious scandal. Others were relieved. Of course they hadn't thought that there could be anything in it - but it was undeniable that Harry was not a normal man.

There were still occasional demonstrations referring to Harry as a wicked and evil, unnatural monster, but the demonstrators took care to have them only when he was known to be out of the country on his spell-breaking expeditions. They didn't want any confrontations with the monster. There was little notice taken of them - none of them were people who'd earned any respect in the world. In fact, many of them appeared undeniably ignorant.

For a while after Beth's visit, Harry hoped that Euan might suggest that he could teach again. But there was nothing said, and when a letter arrived from Kandidria School of Magic, in New York, offering him a professorship, he read it over and over. He refused in the end - it would have meant leaving his home. Instead, there was some talk of a series of lectures.

Alternate weeks, Wednesday afternoons, Ben had his list of clients for spell-breaking, as always. It was routine, even boring. On rare occasions, he needed to make the very slight effort that an observer would feel as a gentle tingling in the air, but he hadn't had a difficult patient for months. Of course, there were seldom old, old cases in England, as he'd been working his cures there fairly regularly since he'd been quite young.

Adolph, one of the German recruits, was rostered to be in with him. Adolph had been with him before, but quite a long time ago. There seemed to be a constant supply of newly qualified young aurors on guard outside, seldom the same one twice.

By May, Percy appeared to have finally tired of being seen with the team. There were no formal dinners arranged in three countries running.

Harry was relieved, and was frequently visiting Britta, since Inge was married. There had been two Swedish backpackers sleeping with Harry when Helmer had been conceived, Britta was the other one.

To Harry, she was as wonderful as she'd been when she was twenty-two. Harry made love to the person, not to the outer image. Not that he was actually averse to beauty.

Franz was still the team leader, but Justin and Grant had taken the place of Malcolm and Anthony who were wanted on different duties. There was still a shortage of experienced aurors.

***chapter end***


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Notes:__ Harry's adult children: Adam Bourne, Victoria, Margaret, James and Beth Potter. Adam Bourne (stepson. __Ben Weasley__ is the son of Hermione and Ron. ***Non-verbal communications are shown in italics.***_

_Chapter 5:_

Early in June, Harry attended for his routine session at Ben's practice. Healer June Hopkirk was presiding, as Ben had been offered a very desirable six months' study at a prestigious German institution. He'd been gone a month. Hermione was absent as well, doing some consulting work abroad, as she frequently did.

Adolph was again rostered to be with him, and a not quite qualified auror called Melanie, was on guard outside.

For the first time in months, there was a difficult patient. Harry was a bit puzzled when he sought to feel the spell. The symptoms were that of a skin condition that often led to problems, but the spell was confused. Harry felt a long time, and finally thought he knew what it was. More than one wizard had inflicted those spells, and maybe even, they'd been put one on top of another.

The wizard didn't know what had happened. He said that he'd suddenly found himself like this, and Harry heard his strong suspicion - that it was something to do with the married woman he'd been going with.

Harry tried his telepathic method first, but was flung out of the man's mind very quickly.

"Sorry, sorry," the man was saying, "I didn't mean to mess you up, I couldn't help it..."

Harry had stepped back, momentarily dizzy, but said, "Don't worry, lots of people can't tolerate that method, we'll try again a different way." And then he asked the man just to go back into the waiting room for a few minutes, and he'd finish the others. Harry had never tried to break interweaved spells like this before, and wasn't sure how hard it would be.

The three other patients were not the slightest problem, and Harry was not taking notice of Adolph, who had inconspicuously sent a signal to Andrew Pritchard, auror. Andrew had been a friend of Harry's, but Andrew was inefficient, and was not getting the recognition he thought he deserved. He'd been promised a promotion for this job, though.

The patient, Scot Voxner, was brought back in. Adolph and June were reminded of the feel of strong magic, but they'd both felt it before, although a while back for both of them. Harry wasn't concerned about them. He carefully warned Voxner what he would feel, but as Harry had every intention of imposing calm on the man, he wasn't concerned about his reaction, either. Dividing his magic like this was something he'd developed in the last few years, although each side effort took a little more concentration.

In a small, little used office at the Ministry of Magic, Andrew Pritchard waited, wand in hand.

Healer Hopkirk wished she could leave. She hated the feeling of an awesome power that Harry could generate. But when Harry courteously asked her if she wanted him to put the man off, and maybe call in the Ministry healer, she answered indignantly, with a quick change of mind. Did he think she would shirk her job? A mediwizard often has things to do that are not altogether pleasant!

"Everyone ready?" Harry said quietly, and he raised his wand, opened his mind to his patient, and started to concentrate. He paid no attention to June or to Adolph - his mind was concentrated on his patient and on his magic.

The gentle tingling in the air started to grow. Gradually it intensified. Adolph waited. Controlling his magic, Harry felt a spell give way, but there were more, and now he could feel them more clearly. Surely there were at least six spells, by three different wizards! The magic was at a high and impressive level, but it was still short of that which had been described to Adolph, and he still waited.

The patient was calm, and so far there had been no need for Harry to intervene to make him so. Another spell gave way, Harry could feel it, and then another.

But the next two, or even three, seemed to be interdependent, and Harry raised the level of his magic. Now the air thrummed with power, seeming to crackle, but with no actual sound, and no actual light.

Healer Hopkirk held her head - she hated this! The spells, three of them together, were on the point of breaking, Harry knew. He stood, wand raised, the centre of an awesome power, making the patient calm now, holding him steady. Nearly there.

Andrew Pritchard had his signal, apparated silently into the room, his silence a skill taught to him by his friend, Harry Potter, aimed his wand at Harry's back, and calmly made the word of the incantation, _"Stupify!"_

Harry fell to the floor, thrown instantly into a major epileptic fit.

"Healer Hopkirk," Adolph said commandingly, and June tore her eyes from Harry's body, convulsing violently on the floor. And Adolph ensured that June Hopkirk would not remember the presence of Andrew, or anything about a stun spell.

Andrew dealt with the patient, who was standing bewildered, uncured. Andrew disapparated.

June Hopkirk shook her head, blaming her momentary dizziness on the power that had filled the air. She went to Harry. But there was not much she could do until he stopped convulsing, and that took what seemed a very long time.

Finally, he was still - pale cheek on the carpet, blood and dribble near his mouth, trousers wet and deeply unconscious.

**x**

Three days later, voices gradually started to become more clear. They seemed to have been talking a long time, and Harry could hear the voice of Percy. "Terrible shame. Terrible shame! He was a credit to wizardry. Most unlikely to recover, according to Healer Goldsworthy."

Another voice said, "You're his brother-in-law aren't you, Mr. Weasley."

"Yes, his wife was my sister Ginny. She died quite a few years ago."

"Healer Hopkirk, is it true that he just started fitting for no reason?"

The sober voice of June answered, "Yes. It was at the height of his magic, and he just fell to the floor, and started fitting. A return to the problems he had some years ago, it seems. Healer Goldsworthy is the expert of course, seeing that Healer Granger has been held up."

Harry's eyes stayed closed, and he only looked around in his mind. His head hurt terribly, and there was a stink of treachery.

He could feel June Hopkirk, and he suddenly knew that her memory had been modified. He spoke to her in her mind, and she jumped, but was luckily silent. _They modified your memory. Do you mind if I remove the spell? _

He felt her assent.

_Don't say a word. _

He removed the memory modification spell, and Harry saw as clearly as June had, the sudden appearance of Andrew, and a stun spell that hit him in the back.

Harry closed his eyes tight in a recoil - not only Percy, but Andrew who had been his friend. Andrew who had played with him. Andrew to whom he'd told the coordinates of his hidden home! It hurt. And he had fitted again. God, how he hated to fit! And fits could do terrible damage, as he well knew. Would he still be able to walk?

June Hopkirk was staring at him, her mouth part open.

Harry opened his eyes a slit. The room seemed to be full of people, gathered close to his bed, but only June taking notice of him as they interviewed the sorrowful and concerned Minister for Magic, who had arranged for him to be attacked at that moment when he was most vulnerable - giving all his efforts to help someone else.

The reporter seemed to be finished, and the photographer moved fussily forward. "Just standing here with the healer, Mr. Weasley - yes, that's right," and Harry made the reporter jump this time.

_As soon as you have the chance, speak to June Hopkirk again, quietly, without Percy or any aurors present_, and now the reporter was staring at him, seeing the eyes glittering, even though only half open.

_June, once you're alone, tell the reporter. Not in front of an auror or Percy, or they might do another memory modification. _

Harry's head seemed to be hurting more every minute.

The photographer was still at work, "Now Mr. Weasley, can we just have a photograph of you stroking his brow. That will be most effective!"

Percy smiled and took the step to the side of the bed, but Harry was not that good at pretending, and when Percy laid a gentle hand on his brow, he said in a low and bitter voice, _"You treacherous bastard!" _

Percy leapt back as if he'd been stung, and now they were all staring at him, and he tried to sit up. It seemed that nothing would work, and his head pained even more.

Seeing his helplessness, Percy regained confidence. "He seems to be confused, Healer Goldsworthy. Do you think he needs to be restrained."

Healer Goldsworthy came to his side then, speaking soothingly. "It's all right, Mr. Potter. Just a little accident. You'll be fine. Just relax, we'll look after you."

Harry looked at him, and felt the healer thinking, too, that he was obviously confused. Harry thought that he might not survive if left here, and he thought longingly of home, and Will, if he needed him. But Andrew knew where his home was, and when he disapparated, lying down, from the hospital bed, it was to Sirius Black's place.

He arrived safely, lying on the floor, close to the boarded up fireplace. He looked around, knew where he was and closed his eyes. His head pained dreadfully, and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

When Harry woke next, he found himself wet, and thought that he'd probably fitted again. He had to have a shower, and managed to haul himself to his feet - it seemed he could still walk, after all. This time, when he collapsed, it was in the shower, water still streaming onto him. He'd forgotten to strip, and now lay, still in the hospital gown, half in, half out of the shower, suddenly fitting yet again, and breaking a shower screen with a flailing leg. Now there was blood as well.

Harry still had friends among the aurors, as well as friends among the wizarding population, but word had not yet spread.

It was the weekend, and it was not until Monday that the Daily Prophet featured his words as the headlines. _You treacherous bastard!_ and showed a picture of Percy Weasley jerking his hand away, and stepping back from him in horror.

There was a full account of him being stunned as he concentrated on healing his patient, and interviews with the patient, too, who was still unable to remember anything about a stunning. June Hopkirk was staying quietly with friends. She was frightened of repercussions.

Margaret, James and Victoria were gathered at Harry's home. The grounds and house had been searched, over and over, by the family, by his workers, and by Andrew, who was known to be a friend of Harry's. Hermione was still not back, still trying to get tickets for muggle transport, but somehow she kept meeting obstructiveness. Ben had managed to make it back, though.

As Harry had planned, Sirius Black's place had been forgotten. Even his children didn't think of it straight away, and it was not until Monday morning that they found him, still half in, half out of the shower, water still pouring down on him. Vicki, Margaret and James, all of them together.

Harry didn't wake, but he was not dead, and James went to get Ben. Carefully, gently, they lifted him away from the shower cubicle, vanished the wet gown, and lay him on a bed. A gash on his calf began to sluggishly bleed again, but that problem was easy to fix. Ben made a quick and minor spell, and it was healed.

Ben had his fit monitor, and was very relieved to see that it appeared that the risk of more fitting appeared now to be slight.

Harry opened his eyes as Ben used another monitor, touching it to various parts of his head. And Harry smiled at him. "Ron," he said. "I've missed you."

"It's Ben, Harry," he said gently.

Harry's forehead creased. "Sorry, lost my glasses." But his gaze was unfocused, wandering.

"Can't kill Percy," he suddenly said, "He's your brother."

"My uncle," Ben persisted. "I am Ben, Percy is my uncle."

"Yes," said Harry vaguely, "Can't kill him."

"How do you feel, Dad?" asked Vicki.

"My head hurts."

"Do you want to go home?"

Harry agreed that he wanted to go home, but James said pressingly, "Dad, why did you come here? Why didn't you go home?"

Harry stared at him. "Had a reason - just can't remember. There was a reason." He couldn't think, his head hurt too much.

Meg, Vicki, Ben and James were deeply involved in discussion. None of them could apparate with a passenger, and Harry was obviously totally unfit to do it himself. He drifted off to sleep again, making no effort to contribute. James and the girls would look after him.

Harry had called it treachery, and they decided not to ask the aurors for help.

Margaret said finally, "Maybe we should just look after him here," but Harry, out of the blue, said, "No. I want to go home, I need Will. He's the only one who knows how to look after me."

James was looking at him frowningly. "Why did you come here, Dad? Tell me."

Harry's eyes searched the ceiling, and at last he said. "It was Andrew. And Andrew knows where I live. So I couldn't go home." And he added suddenly, "Might kill Andrew."

Meg and Vicky remembered a man they'd seen him kill when they were just small children, and Vicky said, "_No_, Dad. No matter what, you're not allowed to kill anyone."

Harry said, "I won't hurt him, just kill him," and Vicky stifled a giggle in spite of the seriousness of the threat, but repeated definitely that he was not to kill anyone at all.

To the relief of all his children, he finally said, "All right then. I won't kill him. Not Percy, not Andrew, not Adolph."

He thought for a while then. "Can I frighten them?"

His children agreed that when he was well enough, he was allowed to frighten them.

He was pulling himself up now, wanting to stand, but Ben was saying firmly, "Lie down, Harry. You're not well enough to get up."

Harry peered at him. "You look awfully like Ron," he said, and suddenly in his hand was a newly conjured pair of glasses, and he put them onto his face. "Not Ron, Ben," he concluded, apparently finally convinced, settled himself more comfortably in the bed and went back to sleep.

Beth appeared, making them jump. With a glance at Harry, she said, "I think, before anything else, what we should do, is go see Percy Weasley, and tell him he has to resign. All of us together, his children. Ben can wait here if he's willing, and afterward, I can take Dad home. I can apparate with a passenger, and it's only a moment, I can support him that long."

James knew Beth even less than Meg and Vicky did, but he looked at her, and thought suddenly that she was exactly like Harry. She was saying what they should do, and she was right. He stood, "Ben?"

Ben nodded. "Don't get yourself arrested, remember he's Minister for Magic!"

"Not for long!" said James grimly. "We'll frighten him, just what Dad said."

Percy already knew he was in a precarious position, and before long he was faced with two formidable witches, the young wizard who looked just liked Harry, and a young woman who gave him chills when he looked at her. The three older ones may have been his own nieces and nephew, but Percy Weasley had hurt their father, and no spluttering about misunderstandings, and Harry being obviously confused, was going to convince them otherwise.

Percy Weasley wrote out a resignation letter and handed it to Madam Bancroft, his second in command. Percy Weasley packed up his personal possessions from the office, and left. He had wanted to be Minister for Magic since he was fifteen.

The aurors had now learned what had happened to Harry. There was a commotion in the aurors' rooms, and when Adolph had walked in, earlier, he had quickly got the message that it might be best to disappear. It was Simon who'd hauled him back as he tried to exit, and given him a black eye.

Adolph was much bigger than young Simon, but felt himself the treacherous bastard the paper had said, and had not retaliated. There were hostile faces all around, and he just backed off, spun on his heel, and left. He would not be back.

Andrew did not appear, but Emil came to face them, and was subjected to some very hostile questioning, led by those who were supposed to have gone to Spain with Harry that morning, Grant, Justin, Alex, and Franz. Franz had been friends with Emil since they'd been aurors together in Germany, but now Franz was interrogating him as closely as any prisoner was interrogated.

Mr. Weasley had decided that Harry was to be restrained... they'd recently learned some things about Harry... it was too dangerous to allow him loose...

Justin and Grant had their fists balled, and they were not the only ones. Several held back, they didn't know Harry. They did know that Emil was the boss.

Emil looked around. There were more hostile faces than there were neutral ones. He made his decision, and said, with some dignity, "Very well, I will resign. Bedwin will be in charge until a new head of department is appointed," and he went and cleaned out his desk.

There was another more quiet departure. Emil's second in command had known what was planned, and thought it wise to leave also.

That afternoon, when Jebedee and Zack appeared in the apparation zone at Harry's home, they were quickly surrounded by suspicious witches and wizards, wands drawn. Harry's family had rallied behind him.

Jebedee and Zack made no hostile move, and it was only after Beth inspected them, that they were told that Harry had been found and was alive.

"Can we see him?" asked Jebedee.

"Not today," said Beth. "Maybe in a few days."

"Is he all right?" Jebedee persisted.

"We won't know for a while."

Will was needed again, and was proud to be needed. Harry was drifting in and out of consciousness, and complained frequently that his head hurt, although not again getting Ben confused with his father. He was able to walk - very dizzy and needing a helping hand, but he was able to walk. Ben was hopeful that he would recover with a little time. He wished that his mother was there, though. Hermione was now laid up with an illness, and still in Switzerland.

A vigilant watch was kept on the apparation zone, and on the gate, no longer left open. Two young security guards were hired, husband and wife, relatives of Kevin's. Beth had been present while Bill had interviewed them, and it was at Beth's nod that they were hired. And it was at Beth's nod that Mary Abercrombie, with her new husband, Tony Davenport, moved in to one of the upstairs bedrooms for a while, for Harry's better protection. Mary's young brother, too, Nicholas Abercrombie. It was only then that Beth, Jeremiah and baby Kate, returned to their own home.

The grounds were better protected than they'd been in years with the new security guards, and the house was well protected at night with two young wizards and a witch living in, but Mary, Tony and Nicholas were all at their day jobs at 3 o'clock the following Monday afternoon.

Harry was in his chair in the lounge room, dozing, although even in his sleep, his forehead creased with the non-stop pain in his head. Will moved quietly around, tidying, his presence a reassurance to Harry. 'Treachery,' he'd called it, and the treachery hurt him as much as his head did. Hit in the back by a friend.

Andrew, still hiding behind his invisibility cloak, looked at him. Andrew thought that he'd come just to make sure that he was all right, before he left the country. But Harry woke, saw straight through the invisibility cloak, and saw the intention that Andrew was not yet aware of himself. Andrew wanted him dead, as if that would eliminate his own guilt.

Harry was looking at him, and Andrew was unsure whether he could be seen or not. But Harry spoke to Will, asking him to fix him a coffee, and to take his time.

Andrew was drawing his wand, carefully concealed under the invisibility cloak.

"Don't do it, Andrew," said Harry quietly. "Vicky told me I was not to kill you, but I don't necessarily do what my daughter tells me!"

Andrew let his wand slide back into his pocket, and innocently removed his invisibility cloak. "I only came to see whether you were all right, I wasn't going to harm you..."

Harry watched him coldly. "I may or may not recover. You, however, are going to suffer."

Andrew took a backward step, but Harry used his magic that never seemed to be affected by illness. Andrew was held helpless.

Harry watched him quietly. He was undecided. His head still hurt, and he knew that sometimes he was confused. He had been talking with Ginny that morning, who had been sitting next to him, although he was well aware that Ginny was a long time dead. And he had told Nicholas that he was not to blame himself if he died, that very few people could resist an Imperius Curse - but it was Euan, Nick's grandfather, who had thrown that Death Curse so long ago. Harry had been sixteen, Euan twelve.

Maybe Andrew wasn't even there. Maybe it was someone else. And in the end, he only used a bit of hypnotism, laced with the merest touch of magic. Andrew would forget how to get to Harry's property, Andrew would never again try to hurt him, or help anyone to hurt him, and Andrew was to leave the country, never to come back. Andrew was to leave the invisibility cloak. Harry wanted someone to tell him whether he'd been real.

He made a casual gesture of dismissal. "Go!" he said. Andrew Pritchard went.

Jason Wiley, the new security guard, spotted him as he left the house, and challenged him loudly, sending red sparks into the air from his wand. But Andrew was a trained auror, and as soon as he was within range, stunned Jason, the same as he'd stunned two small dogs who had run to him yapping when he'd first arrived.

Jimmy Carr saw him, too, and leaned forward over the neck of his accelerating, galloping horse, chasing him, although Jimmy was a squib, and had no weapon.

Andrew was running now, and disapparated, sobbing for breath, as soon as he reached the area on Harry's property where that was possible. Nearly all the house and grounds were protected by overlapping anti-apparation spells.

But when they went to Harry, filled with worry, he was only dozing again, and when Melissa Wiley gently shook his shoulder to wake him, to see whether he was all right, he complained that she made his head hurt worse. He'd forgotten entirely Andrew's visit, and could not say how an invisibility cloak had been left draped over a chair.

Jebedee was visiting daily, as he had before when Harry had been sick. But Harry's family had given their orders. No-one from the Ministry was to see him until he was reliably rational. And Harry's head still hurt, and he still spoke to people who weren't there.

It was three days later that Mary again asked him about the invisibility cloak, and he said that Andrew had left it. On being pressed for further information, though, he wasn't sure whether he'd killed Andrew or just told him to go away. Luckily there were witnesses who had seen him leave, as Andrew had sunk right out of sight. Harry was known to have killed before and vanished the bodies. He might have been in trouble if he'd casually told an auror that he couldn't remember whether or not he had killed.

Hermione finally returned, looking more pale and washed out than Harry. It had been a debilitating illness, although not severe. She had her suspicions about the cause. First she had been called in for what she thought little reason, and then she had met problems when she had tried to return, and then she had been sick.

Harry had been deeply concerned when she arrived, although they had not told him that she was sick. But as Ben watched, and Hermione brought out her array of monitors and devices, he still looked at her face, finally saying that Ron should look after her better.

Hermione said gently, "Ron died years ago, remember."

Harry was still concerned. "You should marry again so that someone can look after you. You shouldn't be alone."

"I'm not alone," said Hermione, "I've got my friends."

"Friends are not enough," said Harry. And he ran a hand through his hair, making it more messy than it was, and saying fretfully, "I wish I could think straight."

He was silent then, to her relief. She thought he'd been going to propose again, as he'd done before.

A week and a half later, Harry woke and sighed with relief. The pain had ceased, and when he stood, he was no longer dizzy. He stretched his muscles, and smiled. He was himself again. The feeling of no pain was a great feeling. It had been over a month.

Will had come to help him, but stood aside, not needed. He was pleased at Harry's improvement, but a little bereft, too. He quite liked the work of a farmhand, as long as someone was there to tell him what to do, but to be able to look after the boss when he was sick filled him with pride.

When Jebedee came that day, he was finally allowed to see his friend, who was found talking to an aged chestnut mare. It seemed that Harry didn't want to talk about the Ministry, or the elections for a new Minister for Magic. He was talking about taking up an offer of a Professorship in America. It seemed that Britain might lose their spell-breaker, but Jebedee was profoundly relieved to see that, at least, he was without further disability, and he wondered why he hadn't been allowed even a glimpse of Harry before now.

That afternoon, Harry went to see Anthea, who was close, and usually obliging. Her only child was at school, and she was still unmarried. She was good company, Anthea, quite aside from the sex.

Madam Barbara Bancroft was elected the new Minister for Magic, and Jebedee Shacklebolt won the position of Head of the Auror Department. But when Harry was requested to attend to discuss a resumption of overseas trips, he returned a polite note saying that he was no longer interested. He had not even resumed the stints at Ben's office, although he was healthy enough again now.

There were some reports added to the file on Harry Potter. Healer Goldsworthy had relished the opportunity to get as much information as possible, and Catherine Rutherford was asked by Sandra Darke, who was still in the senior position appointed by Percy, why she had not passed on the information that he was not a normal man.

Catherine just said briskly that of course he was a normal man, the measures referred to were unusual certainly, but an LV, for instance, of 294, did not mean that Harry was to be treated as an alien. Catherine had known for a long time that her Nisco no longer read true for Harry, and had quietly ascertained his true readings. She had never mentioned it to Harry, but had long since changed her mind about him being nothing special.

Harry thanked his family sincerely for their help, and the Davenports moved back to their own home. Nicholas, however, asked to stay for a while. He was single, and thought that he was extra security for his grandfather.

No-one knew whether Andrew might come back. Harry said that he wouldn't, but for a while he hadn't been sure whether or not he had killed Andrew. They had no confidence in his memory.

Harry was pleased to have young Nick about, he was company.

After another two weeks, Ben finally told Harry that he could apparate again if he chose. He had wanted Harry to wait, just in case the crippling head pain returned suddenly.

Ben went back to Germany, where they were pleased to welcome him. Healer Weasley had been treating Harry Potter through his latest illness. It was an honour to work with Healer Weasley.

Harry still had a sore feeling. After all this time, and all that he had tried to do to keep Percy and the Ministry happy, they had turned on him again. He felt as if he could only trust his family, and maybe a few of his closest friends. He started a book, just for himself, as Luna's had been just for the family. He had finally read Luna's book, more than ten years after she had died. And he had finished it, staring into the distance. It had seemed to bring her so close, and that night he cried for her again. Why was he so alone?

Jebedee still called frequently, and usually found him in his office, writing. Jebedee thought that he'd changed. He seemed to have lost the joy in life that had always been a part of him. Jebedee told him about Barbara Bancroft, that she was round and plump, had a benign outlook on life, and always had generous afternoon teas whenever she had a meeting.

Harry looked into the distance, and said that Cornelius Fudge had been round and plump, looked like everybody's uncle, and had organised to keep him sick when he was sixteen, had tried twice to imprison him when he was seventeen, and then tried to have him committed when he was twenty-four.

Jebedee only said lamely that he was sure Barbara wouldn't do anything like that, and that Harry knew he was safe from the Ministry as long as he, Jebedee, was head of the Auror Department. Harry said sorry, that he was just a bit depressed right now...

By the end of August, Harry finished his book, had the writing machine make just one copy, and put it in the hidden portion of the library where Luna's and Beth's books were kept, as well as a lot of old books on himself by various authors. For many years, he had made a point of reading whatever was published about himself, so that he'd be warned if they started saying he was a Dark Wizard, and should be locked away. He'd stopped the practice after the shameful events that had happened during and after his kidnapping. He didn't want to know what they said about him after that.

He did something then, that he'd been putting off. Muggle records were important. Even though some wizards liked to act as if muggles had nothing to do with wizardry, the fact remained that they lived in a muggle world. According to muggle records, old Harry Potter died, and the estate was left to his grandson, also called Harry Potter, aged eighteen. Harry thought that'd take care of it for a while.

There was another thing he had resolved was necessary, too. He'd been going to the same French brothel, on and off, for over twenty years now, and Marie had been the manager for all that time. Harry looked exactly the same as he looked the first day that a French taxi driver had taken him there, and one day Marie would notice.

So he had his secretary send a formal advice of his death, with a gift for every girl, and one for Marie. There was even one for the bouncer, Claude, who had helped him once when his wheelchair had started to fall down the stairs. It was a wrench. He wished that he could keep visiting. Lolita, especially, was such fun.

**x**

James came to see him one Sunday, the first of September. He wanted to walk with his father. Harry had looked at him, knew there was something on his mind, picked up his cape, and they went outside.

They walked a long time. Harry needed to use his cane sometimes when there was rough ground, but aside from that, he could walk fast and easily.

It took a half hour before James slowed, coming again to a thick grove of trees that had always been one of Harry's favourite places. James took out his wand, and conjured a park bench. Harry sat, waiting for his son. There had been an awkwardness between them for so long, since the kidnapping and his public humiliation. James had been at school, had been given a terrible time, and had never forgiven his father for causing him such shame.

"Beth talked to me," he finally said, not looking at his father. "She said I had to fully face it - what happened when you were kidnapped... I never looked at any of those films before... I couldn't... I'm sorry, Dad. It's taken a long time, but I'm so sorry I treated you the way I did."

Harry was staring away, trying not to cry. But finally he regained his composure to some degree, reached out and touched his son. "You were just a kid, and getting an awful time at school. It was a horrible thing to happen to you, having all the other kids knowing."

"I should have gone to America, like you said at the time."

Harry smiled at him now, "Yes, you probably should have done, and yet I was proud of you when you refused. Why let other people dictate to you what your life should be?"

It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders - it was his own words, _Why let other people dictate to you what your life should be? _and Harry whistled, twice, and a chestnut mare and a black gelding galloped to them.

"Ride?" asked Harry, a devil-may-care grin on his face, and James laughed, and jumped onto the mare, and the pair raced as hard as they could around the perimeter track.

Harry decided he had another job to do, a much more pleasant task than fixing up muggle records. He needed a replacement for the French brothel. He was good at finding women when he wanted, but sometimes he was tired, or they were in countries where sex was frowned upon. But there were always willing women at brothels, and in the best brothels, were women who liked sex as much as he did. He thought Lolita had liked it more.

He tried three, on consecutive nights, Switzerland, Denmark, Sweden. He liked them all. And then he tried one more - in London. There was a small, round woman, all curves. She had a cockney accent, and a wicked sense of humour. Harry had a new favourite. She was called 'Honey,' but he was quite sure that wasn't her real name. And he realised that the decision had made itself. He was ready to resume work, but maybe he'd just wait to be asked again... He still bore a grudge.

Hermione presided at his next Wednesday's stint of spell-breaking, and Jebedee had sent him Anthony and Simon. Harry was relieved. He no longer trusted aurors whom he didn't know well, and he sometimes had to concentrate. And this time he put his own anti-apparation spell over Hermione's office. He had been leaving this routine to the aurors, but that had been a mistake.

There were a lot of patients, and they were very relieved that Harry Potter was back. There was no-one to do this work if Harry couldn't or wouldn't do it.

Last, nervously, Scot Voxner came in, the one whom he'd been trying to fix when Andrew had hit him in the back. Harry warned him that the memory modification spell would also be broken, and waved his wand. It was easier than he had expected. It seemed that it only needed a nudge this time to finish the job he had begun three months before. The man was finally healed, and with one part of his mind, he relished the cure that he'd despaired of, and with another, he was filled with the startling memory of a young man abruptly appearing behind Harry, and aiming a spell at his back.

Harry decided he wanted an ice-cream. He had nearly lost his life again, and yet he was not only alive, he was not even damaged. But when he went into the waiting room, Jebedee waited for him, next to a plumply middle-aged woman, whom he thought he'd seen around now and then at the Ministry . She seemed scarcely over five feet, and Harry rather liked that in a person. He seemed so often to be surrounded by men much bigger than himself, and he smiled at the Minister for Magic, "Join me for an ice-cream?"

Barbara Bancroft laughed and said why not? She was a long way different from pompous Percival Weasley.

***chapter end***


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Harry's adult children: Victoria, Margaret, James and Beth. Adam Bourne is his stepson. Illegitimate son in Sweden, Helmer Roos. His mother is called Inge. Britta is Inge's close friend. _

_Chapter 6:_

The following Monday, Grant, Justin, Alex, and Franz waited with Catherine. They were to go to Spain, their intended destination of three months before.

The work was easy, the location pleasant, and the only incident of note was Harry and Alex having a minor altercation with a pair of drunks. It was no competition, and the Spaniards quickly backed off, as Harry used his fluent Spanish to condemn their cowardice.

The aurors knew he was having nightmares more often. But he'd almost always settle down again after an hour's walk, and they never embarrassed him by discussing it.

Stan had organised a dinner on the last night with certain dignitaries from the Spanish Ministry but Harry told him early in the week that he would not be attending. He had dinner that night in the London brothel, and afterward, played with Honey for a couple of hours before returning to the hotel. He reckoned Stan had nothing to complain about as he'd given him plenty of notice, but when Stan found him playing dragons with Justin and Grant, he complained anyway.

Harry was tired of it. He rose from his chair, looked directly at Stan, and said that he'd only gone along with Percy's ghastly dinners in the hope of keeping him happy, and nearly got killed anyway. That he had no intention of ever again going to another function of that nature. And Stan remembered this other side of Harry, that he was not always easygoing, and that he should not be treated as a disobedient child. Stan apologised.

Sweden, and Harry discovered that a permanent smooth footpath had been laid over the cobbled square he'd so hated the last few times they were there. He liked their hotel in Sweden with its indoor pool and gymnasium, and he liked that he could say hello to Inge and Helmer, and go to bed with Britta as often as he liked. He didn't even have to apparate, although he always did in order to dump the bodyguards.

Several of their destinations now were places they'd been before, often more than once. It was good to rediscover favourite places, and if the work was often boring, there were always things to do afterward. Usually, he would do the local cases first in a country, and often find himself doing cases from neighbouring countries in the last day or two. These days, when Harry struck difficult patients, he now routinely made his first attempts with the telepathic cure. He was trying hard to develop a more subtle touch, like that of Beth. Beth didn't arouse resentment. Harry often did. He was not deterred by the risk of flying fists, what finally veered him back to the other method, that of pure power, was when a woman became so sexually aroused that it was an acute embarrassment. That had happened before, but only once.

Germany again. Harry disliked Germany. They still treated wizard duelling as an honourable tradition. He had suggested to Catherine that he should refuse to do anyone who had got themselves cursed in a duel. Catherine had been shocked. That was not in the tradition of a healer! Harry pointed out that he was not a healer, had not taken the oath of a healer, just broke spells because he could. She admitted that she'd forgotten, but then pointed out that he wouldn't get paid as much if he started to pick and choose which of his patients he'd cure.

"Yeah, I guess," he'd said.

He still wished that he could train others to do this job. He'd done a series of lectures in America, and it had reminded him of the pure satisfaction he had found in teaching. He guessed he was just not respectable enough to be asked to teach at Hogwarts. The last time he'd seen Euan, on the surface of Euan's mind had been the hope that Harry wouldn't raise the subject of teaching. Harry hadn't raised the subject.

Ben was still in Germany, and joined them for dinner one night with one of his colleagues. She was a redhead too, and watching them together, Harry wondered if Ben would finally marry. They were obviously constantly aware of each other. Her name was Hilde.

Hungary, and one night at dinner, Franz mentioned that one of their patients the following day would be from the wizard prison, and would be accompanied by their guards - Dementors. Harry looked up, suddenly with an attack of trembling. He so hated it when they came at times like this. Mostly they meant nothing, but sometimes they really were a betrayal of his agitation. So he waited until he no longer trembled before saying what he wanted to say, that any Dementors had to be kept a very long way away from himself, or he would do nothing with the patient, and that they could not rely on him not to attack the Dementors.

Franz was puzzled. "They're not so bad, they're absolutely the best way to keep a wizard in gaol, especially a powerful one."

But Harry contradicted him, suddenly shaking again, "They're the foulest, most evil things imaginable, and I think death is a far better fate than being kept prisoner by Dementors!"

Franz was looking at him, confused. "Lots of countries use them. I don't know why we don't."

"They went over to Voldemort, that's why, they thought they'd have more human prey that way!"

Franz was still looking at him, searchingly. Harry still shook, but he often did that. And his face was perfectly calm, expressionless, and his voice steady. But Franz shrugged, "I'll let them know then, the Dementors are to be kept well away."

Harry nodded his thanks, but was no longer hungry, and left his meal half eaten.

Franz spoke to Catherine later, who agreed with him that Harry had been a lot more upset at the thought of Dementors than he'd actually shown. And added to Franz, "You know that he's been attacked by Dementors, more than once, also that he's terrified of confinement, and Dementors are probably the only ones who could keep him prisoner."

Franz had been quiet. He knew that Harry Potter had been threatened with imprisonment, and was apt to agree with Catherine, the only way that he could be kept a prisoner for long would be with the help of Dementors. Dementors weaken a wizard, and had magic of their own, some of it much stronger than the magic of a wizard.

The next day, when the prisoner arrived, he was brought in by two aurors. Harry raised a wand, cured him, and looked away from the thin, haggard looking man, who scarcely seemed to notice or care that he no longer had pig tusks. No matter what the man had done, Harry wished he could free him.

The routine continued. To Harry, it was just work. To everyone else, he was a worker of miracles. For some patients who had given up expecting a cure, he was a saviour.

Catherine still treated him the same as ever, and never mentioned that she now had a great deal more information on him than he knew. She had kept her resolve not to fuss over him, and he appreciated it. There had been only that one time when he'd been a pumpkin-head for a few minutes, and been so profoundly disturbed. He'd been very grateful for her attention, then.

Harry had not needed to use the strong magic since he'd been struck down.

November, Austria. The same team he'd had for a while, Franz in charge, Grant, Justin, Alex. There were always extra aurors buzzing around, too, supplied by the host country. And Austria was especially keen to help. He was a hero to the aurors, as he'd rescued several of them once from incarceration as pumpkin-heads. They'd given him some sort of a medal for it. In every country there was also a Coordinator and a translator supplied, those jobs often combined, and always there were observers.

First thing Monday, three pumpkin-heads were scheduled. They'd been brought in from Italy, all cursed just days before. There was a husband and wife, and an auror who'd presumably tried to arrest the culprit. The culprit was still unknown. The Austrian aurors were fascinated. Included in the observers were three Austrian aurors who had spent a day or so as a pumpkin-head before being rescued. That had been when Luna had just died.

Pumpkin-heads were not as dangerous as they used to be for Harry. With improved telepathic ability, he no longer had to be as close, and he could use a barrier to stop himself being hurt. It was a weird sight in the waiting room, three monsters placidly sitting with their carers. Harry casually touched each of the victims and confirmed that they were all still alive. Two ambulance teams were waiting already, and a third expected.

The first pumpkin-head was led in, and Harry was watched closely as he used his wand to conjure a strong but yielding barrier between the man/vegetable and everybody else. He wanted the rescued pumpkin-head to have as much freedom as possible. It was such a dreadful imprisonment.

Harry frowned at the observers. "Are you sure that you want to watch this? It might be difficult for anyone who's experienced it."

Catherine suddenly looked at him in concern. Harry had experienced it himself, and this was the first since then. But he was showing no signs of any particular stress. One of the Austrians spoke for them all, they very much wanted to watch it. It was a miracle that Harry Potter could do this. No pumpkin-head had ever been rescued before Harry came along. Harry just nodded briefly, and looked back at the placid outer surface of a frantic prisoner.

Justin and Grant were both with him, both with wands drawn just in case. Harry concentrated, he could feel the person hidden behind the vegetable. He tried to impose calm, while he sought to find the touch point that would release the man.

The ludicrous and tragic sight of a pumpkin on a man's shoulders vanished, and a man was there instead. Tears were streaming down his face, but he stayed still, and it could be seen that Harry was still concentrating, eyes shut, feeling the man and his emotions.

At last Harry drew back, and the man fell to his knees, sobbing. The Austrian mediwizard with the ambulance team approached, and Harry vanished the barrier. The man was tapped on the shoulder, and a compassionate voice told him, "Come with us, we'll look after you."

One of the Austrian aurors left also. He was a tough man, he wasn't going to show that he was moved.

"Next?" Harry said, and the wife was brought in. Again she was placed in position, and Harry waved his wand, and again there was a barrier for their protection.

Harry closed his eyes again, he could concentrate better when he closed his eyes, but this one was different. He could not make this woman calm. In her mind she was screaming and screaming. He spoke a couple of words then, to Justin and Grant, "Be ready!" and suddenly a furious witch was hurling herself at the barrier, trying desperately to get at Harry. Somehow they always knew that it was Harry who had done something, and it was Harry whom they wanted to get at.

The woman would not become calm, although they waited, and Harry wove a gentle calming spell, as both Catherine and the Austrian mediwizard who was to take charge of her talked to her, trying to reassure.

Finally, the Austrian took out his wand, and said that he'd put on a Total Calm spell, and that Harry could drop the barrier. He was not quick enough, and the berserk woman was on top of Harry raking at his eyes with scarlet fingernails, until big, burly Grant picked her straight up off Harry, and held her raised in the air until the mediwizard could hit her with the spell. Instantly, she was calm, but it was an artificial calm.

Harry wondered if this woman would recover. He frowned after her. Beth would be able to help her, he thought, and decided to ask Beth if she'd be willing to be called in for cases like that. One of the Austrians picked up his glasses from the floor, and Catherine called him over. She had a lotion in hand, ready to dab on the scratches that decorated his face, even skating over an eyelid. It seemed that even with the barrier, pumpkin-heads could be dangerous.

The third man, the auror, also came out panicking, but this time he was swiftly stunned before he could get to Harry. Grant reckoned the mediwizards were just not fast enough. Harry needed trained aurors for his protection.

There were already more patients gathered in the waiting room, looking hopefully at the great wizard, who still showed traces of scratch marks across his face. But Franz decreed a break before any more patients were treated, and Harry gave a broad smile of appreciation as he surveyed the table laden with treats that had been prepared for them. Grant and Justin, always hungry, were pleased, too.

Harry took his coffee outside. There was a chill in the November air, but the reminder of imprisonment had left him craving the freedom of Outside. He was joined by an Austrian auror carrying a plate with an especially fancy concoction on it, offering it to Harry.

Harry leaned against the wall, setting down his cane, and took the cake, smiling his thanks.

The man had something on his mind, and ventured on a difficult subject. "Someone did it to you last year, didn't they?"

Harry glanced at him, "Yes, and I went just as berserk as anyone else - nearly burnt the man to death!" The auror felt a bit better.

"I tried to strangle you, they tell me. I can scarcely remember." And he cast a sidelong glance at Harry, "Sorry."

Harry shrugged, "It's standard. I forget how many times an ex-pumpkin-head has attacked me. I'm better at it now, the barrier helps a lot."

"They said you wouldn't let anyone be tied."

"I'd prefer to give them total freedom when they come back, but it's just too dangerous. Not just for me, for everyone. There was one in Turkey who laid out me, plus two aurors, before he was knocked out with a fist. For some reason, stunners bounced off him."

The auror was silent then, leaning against the wall with Harry in undemanding companionship. But when Harry straightened up, he quickly handed him his cane, and took the empty plate from him.

The day was routine then, except for a child who needed a bit of extra effort, and the small group of observers felt a tingle in the air.

Harry spent the night with Britta, in her cosy home in Sweden, and was back before breakfast the following day. Franz didn't worry so much these days when he was absent without his bodyguards, as long as Harry kept him informed. Harry had shown pretty clearly that he could look after himself.

Tuesday morning, Harry struck a difficult patient. It was a young man, and when he started the intrusion of his mind that was necessary to cure the patient with telepathy, he withdrew fairly quickly. It was bad enough when a woman became aroused, he really didn't want to be in that position with a man. He started preparing the man for the frightening feeling of strong magic in the air instead. Catherine took it upon herself to order Justin to swap with Grant or Franz, as Justin couldn't tolerate the feeling, and as previously agreed, it was explained that no observers were allowed, due to the fear of interruptions.

Franz came in with Grant and stood behind him. Harry glanced at them, with sudden, discernible nervousness, but told himself not to be so silly. Franz moved himself to the side, and told Grant to go to the other side of the room.

The door was closed, the patient stood calm, and Harry opened his mind to him. He needed to ensure his calm. And then he started to call up his magic. The feeling started with just that gentle tingling in the air, but gradually intensified until it felt like a humming, very much present but not actually audible.

Catherine was waiting. She knew that his magic could become a lot more intense than this, but suddenly Harry gave a broken cry, grabbed at his head, and fell to his knees. The feeling in the air ceased, as Catherine pushed back her chair, and hurried over to him. His eyes were tight shut, and his fists pressed against his forehead as he rocked in the overwhelming agony that attacked him. Catherine knelt by his side and waited.

Grant looked at the bewildered patient, and after a moment, sent him back outside to wait. Franz watched in deep concern. Whatever it was, it was bad. He had never seen such pain.

Harry dropped his fists, his eyes opened, but Catherine could still see the agony reflected in them. And then he slumped in a faint. Catherine was feeling for his pulse, "We'll take him back to the hotel, straightaway," she said, "Before he comes around."

Franz nodded at Grant, who gathered up Harry in his arms, and apparated straight into Harry's bedroom, laying him gently on the bed.

It even hurt to open his eyes, and it hurt just as much to close them. It was too much. Harry thought he'd never felt such pain. It was like he was on a separate dimension, those who moved softly around him were not part of the same world. He wished they'd leave him alone. The slightest movement made it worse, and he wished Catherine would not touch him, but it would hurt more to try and tell her so.

Catherine didn't know what had happened, but thought it had to do with the shock and resultant illness after the violent interruption the last time he had used strong magic. He was silent, unmoving, but she could see the pain in his eyes, and when she borrowed a pain monitor, the reading was off the scale. Other monitors showed considerable indications for concern, although if she hadn't known what his true LV reading was, she wouldn't have known that 150 was serious. It was consistently dropping, too.

She went to Franz, and asked him to call in Healer Granger as quickly as possible, or maybe Healer Weasley if Hermione was not available.

"Harry," she said softly, "I'm going to work a spell to take away the pain," but Harry suddenly knew that she must not do that. He tried to speak, closing his eyes as the pain immediately intensified. Even thinking hurt dreadfully.

She already had her wand out, and he finally got out the word, "No," he said, scarcely audible. "A spell will kill me, I think. No spells," and he sank into unconsciousness.

She hesitated, but finally put away her wand. Harry was not like other people. He was not unconscious long, and spent the next hours just waiting, not thinking, enduring because he had no choice. It would have hurt more, he thought, to scream.

His eyes were shut and he still suffered as Hermione arrived, having a soft conversation with Catherine on the other side of the room. He wished he could tell them that noises hurt, just to leave him totally alone, but it hurt too much to talk, hurt too much to think.

Hermione was there, fiddling with his wrist. The slight movement was enough to sink him into unconsciousness again, and they opened the dull red book/monitor that now showed continuous readings with the sensor they'd placed around his wrist. The fit monitor indicated that the risk of fits was low, but not absent. Energy readings were very low, and an indicator showed that he drifted barely into and out of consciousness. LV had now dropped to what would be regarded as normal levels, if they hadn't known that his actual normal was so high.

In the early hours of the morning, the pain diminished, and he could move again. It was still a very severe headache, and he wanted nothing to eat, but took a little water. Catherine still sat with him, although she had been relieved for a while by an Austrian mediwizard. The Austrians were doing everything they could to help. Harry had a shower, he had been sweating, and took himself back to bed, hoping that he'd sleep it off.

He was up again in the morning, still shaky, still with a very severe headache. But he had a shower and started to dress before falling again, again clutching his head. "Don't touch me," he got out, as Grant started to lift him.

So they left him there, on the floor, unmoving, until Hermione's monitor indicated that he had lost consciousness, and Grant put him back in bed.

It only lasted a couple of hours that time, again diminishing to a severe headache. Harry slept a little.

When he woke, Franz was watching him in concern and indecision. "Percy got his way," said Harry in a tired voice. "He wanted to weaken me - I can no longer work the strong magic."

"Will we take you home?"

"No need, it's getting better. I reckon I'll be able to finish the week, even if I have to work Saturday. Just that there might be failures again now, and I haven't had failures for years."

Hermione confirmed that he was improving, and it would have been an ordeal for him to be moved yet anyway. There were a couple more attacks of the terrible pain in his head, but one lasted only a half hour before it eased off, and the next only ten minutes.

They sent a note to Britta for him, that he was ill and couldn't visit as planned. She sent a note back that she would visit on Thursday, if he liked, and he accepted with pleasure. It wasn't so far from Sweden to Austria.

Thursday, Harry woke with a headache, but it was not severe, and he thought that he could work.

Hermione was still there, and consulted with Catherine, before stating that he could start work again in the afternoon, but was not to do any that required anything more than a wave of his wand. And he was to sit, not stand. He still wore the sensor device on his wrist, that looked like a watch, and they still kept a close watch on the monitor. The readings were a lot better now, and they could see that he was making a quick recovery.

Britta arrived in the afternoon, and she waited at the hotel for him, being met by Alex, who was on night duty. Alex didn't mind, he suspected that she would do most of his job for him. The aurors knew that he was always better when he slept with a woman, and oddly enough, they didn't actually like going for long walks in the middle of the night.

Britta was surprised to find that he was so well protected - or watched. There were two big men follow them as they went for a stroll around the nearby streets. There were others, too, she thought, large men who seemed to be watching them. She knew he was a wizard, as she'd been close friends with Inge all her life, and Inge had confided in her when Helmer had started being such a problem.

The aurors looked at Britta with curiosity. They occasionally saw some of the women whom Harry slept with, and were always intrigued that there was such a variety. This one would have to have been nearly fifty, and they forgot that, chronologically, Harry was over seventy. Body-wise, he still looked twenty-five.

Harry worked his cures that afternoon, although he had to say no to the young man. He was not up to even the telepathic cures for a few days. He said he'd be in touch. Maybe there was something else that could be done.

He hesitated before one that he thought would require just a tiny bit of effort, and finally said that she should come back tomorrow, that he'd probably be a bit better tomorrow. He was well enough for Britta though, that night. She was a bit concerned about the guard outside his door, but he told her there was a silencing shield...

Friday, he was apprehensive as the patient returned who needed that slight extra effort, and Hermione watched him closely, as the gentle tingle was felt in the air. He gave a sigh of relief when the spell broke. At least he could still do that, and that small effort was needed a lot more frequently than the strong magic.

Friday evening, the healers ignored him, as they knew he preferred, as he chatted with Britta at dinner. Her oldest son wanted to be a solicitor, but was having trouble getting good enough results at school.

Franz was next to them, listening as Harry told her about a mare called Sheba, who had just about saved his life when he was ill and nearly dying of boredom one time. Out of the blue, Britta asked, "Harry, how old are you?" and Franz watched with some amusement as Harry looked uncomfortable, and hedged.

Britta was still looking at him with penetrating intelligence. "Do wizards live a specially long time, then?" asked Britta.

"Some do," admitted Harry, looking acutely uncomfortable.

"We were talking about it, Inge and I, you still look exactly the same as when we picked you up at the Rose Hotel." She took pity on him, then, and asked what horses he had now, which Franz thought quite noble of her.

Franz was curious - had there been two girls together that time? He mentioned it the following week to Jebedee, who knew of the incident, and confirmed that there had indeed been two, and added something that Franz hadn't realised, that it was just after he'd rescued a woman from drowning, and then apparently decided that he would swim straight out to sea to find his dead wife.

Franz shook his head. He may have admired Harry Potter, but he'd never understand him.

Britta left in the morning, the Austrians doing the British team a favour, and taking her smoothly to the airport, where she was treated as someone particularly important until she boarded the plane. She loved it.

The work was finally completed early Saturday afternoon. Hermione was still there, and Harry still wore the wrist sensor, although he told Hermione that it was no longer needed, he was better. He still had it on his mind that there would be failures now, and he was thinking that he needed to become better at the telepathic cures, seeing he could no longer call up the strong magic.

He spoke to Hermione on the trip home, and she agreed with him that he should not try and call up the strong magic ever again. She told him, too, just how critical it had been for a little while. At the time he hadn't worried whether he was dying or not - he'd just wanted the pain to stop. Harry had never really had any use for the strong magic, except for his healing, but it had felt good to use it. Now it appeared he could never use it again. Damn Percy!

Harry hated failing his patients, and he'd left one uncured in Austria. But there was Beth, and she could cure people. Maybe Beth could teach him to do the telepathic cures easier, without offence. He thought she could probably cure anyone, using that method. Those he failed, he could maybe refer to her. He would go and see her, maybe at Christmas...

He suddenly thought that there was Karen Vilner, too. She had been a child when he had been able to cure her disfiguring condition. Her face had been that of a bat, and he thought of her as the Bat-girl. But Karen had no longer had a human voice, and when his magic had failed, had spoken to him telepathically. It was through little Karen that he had stumbled upon the telepathic cure, although, for him, it was not the miracle it had seemed at first. But for Beth, it was, and maybe Karen could be taught to do it, too. It could be a good living for her if she could do it, and if she was interested.

The following Monday, Harry dropped in to Sarah's office, and said that he wanted January off, and maybe February. Not to book any trips for those months. And then he strolled to Jebedee's office. Neat piles of paper, and a burn mark on the large, polished desk. He asked the question that he'd wondered for years. Why on earth they didn't fix it.

Jebedee regarded it with surprise. "I don't know, it's always been there."

Harry asked his question - Karen Vilner, early twenties, where would she be now?

Jebedee promised to find out, and commented, "Franz said you can no longer call up the strong magic."

"No," said Harry. "It appears that Percy deprived me of that. I'm going to start having failures again."

"When did you last fail?"

"I can't remember. Years."

Afterwards, Jebedee called for the file on Harry Potter, and did as his father had done, went through it, and severely culled it. He left in the bit about the loss of power. It might make him safer from jealous Ministry beaurocrats, especially as it had seemed in the last years that he only became stronger, and acquired new abilities. He found what had prompted that attack on Harry, too. Word had spread about the intended ambush in America, that Harry could apparently sense potential attackers from far away, pick them out, and stun them from a distance. And probably kill them if he chose.

Jebedee vanished the report, and continued looking. When was the last time that Harry had failed? He finally found a list of failures. It appeared that the last one may have been over ten years ago. There were not many names on that list, and some had been struck off, presumably later cured.

After some thought, Jebedee concocted a new list, much longer, and attached to a report that concluded that Harry Potter failed roughly one in twenty-five of his patients. He marked the false report with an indicator in the corner. He wanted to protect Harry, but he was an auror, and it went against the grain to include a forged report in a file.

Still, it was not a bad idea, and he made another forgery that might mislead future enemies, also with that mark. It was thought that Harry's hidden home was in France, probably close to the coast. This was supported by his fluent French, and by the fact that he patronised a French brothel, and he made up a brief report, that it was known that he had spent a few days in a French muggle hospital with concussion, after a riding accident.

He came across a very old report of his own, too. Harry had been slowly recovering from a severe illness, still looked very thin and weak, and had thrashed two muggles in a fist fight, before collapsing. Jebedee had picked him up, and brought him back to the Ministry where Healer Smythe had made a thorough examination. He studied that old medical report. He knew a lot more about the significance of Nisco readings now, and was stunned that Harry had been so ill, and still doing part-time teaching, some spell-breaking, and then getting into fist fights!

After some thought, he went to see Catherine, but she was very busy. It was time for the aurors' annual checks - if they were not sufficiently fit, they either had to be put in a desk job - Bedwin, for instance, was in charge of the trainees, or they had to transfer to a different department. That had happened to Jebedee when he'd been badly injured and lost his leg. The head of the Department, of course, was a desk job, so Jebedee no longer had to be able to run miles or lift weights.

Catherine expected to be finished late in the afternoon, and he asked her to drop by his office. He wanted to talk about Harry. Catherine regarded him suspiciously, but agreed.

When she appeared in Jebedee's office, he ordered coffees and an afternoon tea. He wanted her cooperative, and Barbara's methods had begun to spread.

He started by handing her a copy of the multi-page report on Harry prepared by Healer Goldsworthy. Catherine checked what it was, and said briefly that she had a copy. The afternoon tea arrived then, and Jebedee made conversation about Harry. The miracles he worked so casually, how indispensable he was.

"Weasley apparently thought he could be dispensed with!" said Catherine tartly.

"Yes, he did, didn't he? I thought he wasn't going to come back after that - he seemed so depressed for a while. I'm not sure what changed his mind."

Catherine suddenly laughed. "He told me, it was because Barbara was short! That everyone around him was always so bloody big!"

And Jebedee, an enormous man himself, laughed. "That sounds like the authentic Harry!"

He got down to business, then. "What makes him a target is that he's not like everyone else, especially that he seems too powerful. What we need to do is make him sound weak. He might be around a long time, and, as he says himself, Ministry heads change. He's been attacked under three separate Ministry heads - we're lucky he still chooses to work with us."

"What do you want, Jebedee?"

"I want you to re-write this report, putting in more normal figures where necessary. I want you to write a report that says that although he may appear youthful, his heart is bad, or something like that, and maybe you could put in an excerpt purportedly from a research journal that indicates real weakness in abnormal physiology - that sort of a thing. You can probably think of things better than I."

Catherine looked at him. "You want me to write lies."

"Yes."

"All right, but I'll take a few days, it has to be believable."

"Thanks, Catherine," said Jebedee, and handed her back the report, together with a couple of older medical reports. Catherine nodded, and strode away.

A few days later, she returned to his office, with some carefully re-written reports, some excerpts from research journals, indicating vulnerability, emphasis on frequent and severe illnesses, and a theory that Harry Potter had a high probability of sudden death from a rare condition with a very long name. Some of the reports were backdated. They looked genuine.

Jebedee read them over carefully, smiled his thanks, and put them down. Exactly what was needed.

"How is he now?" he asked her.

"Fine," said Catherine, "I haven't seen him, but I was talking to Hermione on Tuesday," and Catherine added, "It's not all lies, you know. I think he really is a lot more vulnerable than the rest of us, not to things like coughs and colds, of course, but he can still have what Hermione calls nervous attacks, and he's probably still susceptible to episodes of fitting in the right circumstances."

Jebedee nodded. He agreed.

Catherine started to get up, and suddenly said, "Why do you have him followed all the time? It frets him."

Jebedee was looking at the reports again. "He needs to be protected," he said casually, automatically.

"_Does _he?" asked Catherine.

Jebedee looked up, "I don't know, we've always done it."

"Maybe it's time you thought about it."

Jebedee thought about it. It was true that Harry seemed to be in less danger these days. There was the pumpkin-head incident, but he'd rescued himself, and there was the incident in America, and he'd looked after himself and the aurors besides. The worst that had happened to him in recent years was because of a treacherous act by those who were supposedly protecting him.

The next week, the last trip before Christmas, was Greece. They finished early, and Harry said casually that he was going for a walk. Franz was reading a book, and said, "Sure."

Harry looked at him, Franz didn't look up, and suddenly a delighted smile spread across Harry's face, and he strode out alone, while Alex and Justin looked at Franz in surprise. Franz finally looked up, and said casually to the bodyguards, "Jebedee says he's a big boy now, and can do without aurors following him everywhere."

Karen Vilner, the former bat-girl with telepathic ability, had married, and moved to America. And when Harry saw her, he discovered that she had buried her telepathic abilities, and tried not to think of that terrible time when she had the face of a bat.

"It was because of you that I've been able to fix a lot of people," said Harry. "If I send you a book, will you put it away somewhere, and not throw it away, just in case you change your mind, or one of your children has your potential?"

Karen was relieved that he wasn't going to persist, and agreed to do that. It was years ago that Harry had written that book on spell-breaking, and he checked it over, and did some revision, especially in relation to pumpkin-heads, before sending it to Karen. To gain a full understanding, the reader of the book needed telepathic skills, as words were inadequate to convey what was required.

**x**

Harry spent Christmas in a tourist hotel near the tiny home in beautiful surroundings, where Jeremiah and Beth lived. Kate was five months old, and a very beautiful baby - not that Harry had ever seen one that wasn't beautiful.

As he wanted, Beth tried to teach Harry to develop a lighter tread when he invaded the mind of another. But while he could know another's surface thoughts and emotions, and not be detected, when he tried to push where he wanted to go, he was clumsy, to her mind, as if he walked in heavy boots. He had to practise on her, too, and that made him feel even more awkward.

She had a couple of patients for spell-breaking one day, and Harry listened with his mind. He could detect what she was doing because he knew - he had taught her, but her skill was on a different level to his own, and he knew that while he might be able to improve a little, there was no way he could do it as she did it. He asked her instead if, when necessary, he could refer patients to her. She agreed, but they had to come to her, she had no intention of travelling from the island home that had been so hospitable. Beth had not been treated well in her home country.

Harry stayed a month, and grew tanned again. He always tanned easily, and he spent enough time at the beach wherever they were that it was his more usual state. He never seemed to feel the cold.

Over the next months, Harry did become a little better at doing the telepathic cures, and when he failed, he handed his patient a card. They could go see his daughter, Beth, who was better than he was at some things. Once word spread, Jebedee finally understood why Harry and Luna had kept Beth hidden for so many years. She must be something very special. He didn't start a file on her, though... Others might have done.

Harry made no further attempts to call up the strong magic. Such terrible pain was a very strong deterrent.

***chapter end***


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Notes__: Harry's adult children: Victoria, Margaret, James and Beth. Adam Bourne is his stepson. Nicholas Abercrombie is a grandson. Harry's staff includes Melissa & Jason Wiley, security guards. _

_Chapter 7:_

Sunday, July thirty-first, Harry's birthday. He was seventy-two. He sat in the sunshine talking to Margaret. Nicholas, her eldest son, was off riding one of Harry's horses. Margaret was asking him whether he was tired of Nicholas living with him, but Harry said that he very much enjoyed his company. That his house was big, and often lonely. That he liked having him there. Margaret thought that it was a safeguard, too. Harry Potter needed protectors.

An awkward figure turned into the driveway. From their distance, it looked deformed, but as it became closer, they could see that it was the slight figure of a girl, with a large backpack. One of the security guards, riding a horse, cantered over to the walker, wand by her side just in case.

There was some brief conversation, and Melissa Wiley looked in the direction of Harry and Margaret, and then back at the girl. The girl looked the image of Harry Potter in a female form. She was very young, only about sixteen, Melissa thought, and spoke with an American accent. She trudged tiredly, although she had put a spell on her backpack so that it was much lighter than it looked.

Melissa slipped off the horse, and walked with her to where Harry and Margaret waited. Harry rose, and held out his hand. She had the look and feel of family, although he'd never met her before. She introduced herself as Cissy Diefenberger, and said nothing more, staring at Harry, and at Margaret. "Please, sit down," Harry said.

Cissy slipped off her backpack, and sat, joining them at their table. Harry didn't believe in uncomfortable garden furniture, and the chairs and table were as comfortable as any that were normally indoors. When the setting looked too worn from the weather, he'd vanish it, and conjure a new setting.

Cissy still didn't say why she had come, and Harry asked her how she had found him.

"I don't know," she said. "I had a feeling, and then some-one down the road said that the Potters lived in the property with the high fences."

Harry observed to Margaret, "Lucky it's not so easy for everyone to find the place," and he offered Cissy a plate of sandwiches. Cissy took one gratefully, and ate hungrily, following it with several more.

It was Margaret who finally leaned forward, and asked her why she had come.

Cissy said simply, "My parents are dead, and I think Mr. Potter might be my father, so I came here."

Harry looked at her. She certainly had the feeling of family, although the strong resemblance to himself was more obvious to his daughter than it was to him.

"How old are you, Cissy?"

"I was sixteen two days ago."

Gently, he said, "Then I'm afraid that I cannot be your father. I was married to Luna then, and there was no-one else."

"Are you sure? They say that you go with lots of women."

"I'm sure," he said.

"I have this," she said, suddenly delving into a plastic bag in the side of her backpack, and Harry looked at a shipboard menu, and a small photograph of a young man with his leg in a cast. He turned over the photograph, and in faded pencil was a note, _Bellamy_. He looked at the evidence, and said, "Susan." He smiled at Cissy. "I think you must be my grand-daughter."

But Cissy shook her head. "My grandmother's name wasn't Susan. My mother's mother was called Toni Schuster. Her maiden name was McKay."

Harry looked at Margaret. "Margaret, am I old enough to be a great grandfather?"

Harry as well as Margaret was calculating, and finally, they nodded together, and Margaret said, "Barely."

"The woman I knew was called Susan McKay," said Harry. "I knew her when I was twenty-one, and it was on the ship that brought me back to England. I had my leg in plaster."

He indicated the small photograph. "That was me," and he smiled at her, "Are you going to live with me?"

"I have nowhere else to go."

Harry rose. "We'll go choose a bedroom," and Cissy noticed for the first time that he carried a cane. She followed him, feeling awkward. She had not expected such immediate acceptance, and found it difficult to think of this man as anything like old enough to be her great grandfather, although she knew that her mother had married very early, and had died very early, too.

Nicholas cantered up on a chestnut mare, and Harry introduced him to Cissy Diefenberger, his cousin or some such thing. Nicholas slipped off the mare, and shook her hand.

Melissa had been hanging back, but now she, too was told that Cissy would be living with them, that she was his great grand-daughter. Melissa looked at the very close resemblance between the pair, and thought that the connection had to be a lot closer than that, but politely greeted the girl.

Cissy smiled at Melissa, she thought she could be a friend, and she would love to learn to ride a horse. Melissa took the reins of Nick's horse for him, and Nick picked up Cissy's backpack.

Harry still slept in a large downstairs room, that had been converted to a bedroom when he'd been very ill. He'd never got around to moving back upstairs, and Cissy had a choice of upstairs bedrooms. She chose one with a large window that looked over the gardens. Nicholas put down the backpack, and watched her as she looked around her with an air of relief.

A half-grown tabby cat came in, sniffed at her, and hopped onto the bed, purring.

Cissy was weary, and when Harry showed her where the nearest bathroom was, and told her she should do exactly what she wanted, even if that was to go to bed for three hours, she thanked him. They left her alone then, and she went to the window. The whole place was bathed in sunshine, and seemed to wear an air of peace and contentment. She thought she could be very happy here, and she sat on the bed, and stroked the kitten.

In the next few days, Harry learned that part of the reason she had thought that she might be his daughter was that no-one could undo her spells. And she conjured a table for him, and he was stunned to discover that he couldn't vanish it, even when he raised the level of his magic to that of the small extra effort he needed in his spell-breaking sometimes. He thought he would need strong magic to vanish that table, and he couldn't use strong magic any more. They continued the experiments. Harry conjured a table, which Cissy could not vanish.

He had her try and do magic without a wand, but she made no progress at that. Only Beth, aside from himself, could do that, but it appeared that Cissy had as much, or nearly as much, raw power as himself, and she was only sixteen!

"Do you have any telepathy?" he suddenly asked her, but she shook her head, "I don't think so."

Harry thought that even so, he might finally have found a pupil he could teach to break spells. But she was only just sixteen, he reminded himself, and probably should go to school for the next two years.

Cissy agreed that she needed to return to school. She wanted to be a healer. She had been to Kandidria School of Magic, in New York. It's where she had seen Harry Potter, as he gave a series of lectures, the student audience becoming bigger with each one. People had started commenting on how much she looked like him, and then her father died suddenly, and she had no home to go to. Her mother had had four younger brothers and sisters, but they had all died young, two as children.

There were no living relatives on either side. Her father had been large and blonde, and she was small and dark, with green eyes, like her mother. When she found records that indicated that she had been conceived several months before the wedding, she had started wondering.

Harry gave her the option of continuing at Kandidria, or going to Hogwarts. She chose Hogwarts, and Harry arranged it for her.

Cissy already knew that he worked as a spell-breaker all over the world, and was intrigued by the idea. She thought that could be something she'd like to do when she finished school.

Harry was in Brazil the following week, and Nicholas rode with Cissy. Cissy had been given a well-behaved palomino pony for a start, called, unsuitably, 'Mustang.' Harry had brought him home one day from a neighbour's property. Mustang had been a show pony, but was left neglected after an accident that left him with a missing eye and a scarred face. But he was easy to ride, had a smooth gait, and the loss of an eye didn't seem to affect him, except that he habitually held his head slightly to one side. The two young people enjoyed themselves together.

Margaret was intrigued by the girl, and while Harry seemed perfectly happy to accept her as his great grand-daughter, and leave it at that, Margaret wanted to investigate further, and she quizzed Cissy about her ancestors, and checked records.

Finally she spoke to Harry, alone, and asked him whether he'd ever known someone called Anna Klein. Harry said that yes, she was German, and a tourist when he met her. Margaret was looking at him. That explained it, she'd thought that Cissy had to be closer related than great grand-daughter. Her father asked innocently, "What's the matter?"

"Cissy," she said. "I think you must be her grandfather, as well as her great grandfather!" She showed him the family tree she'd worked out, and explained, "Cissy's mother was your grandchild from Susan, but then she married another who could have been your son."

Harry was looking at her, upset. "It couldn't be. I was always so careful!"

"Not careful enough, it seems," and unusually, Margaret was critical.

"I was always so careful!" said Harry again. "And why did they have to find each other? One was German, one American. And Anna. She said she couldn't have children! And I never went with inexperienced women. Anna was thirty-five. And after Julia, I always worked the spell! That's yet another illegitimate child! It can't be right!"

Harry was both upset and horrified, and suddenly Margaret was laughing. "You must be pretty potent! And anyway, it looks like Cissy's all right. Just make sure she doesn't marry Nicholas. I think that might be enough in-breeding."

Harry was still upset, and Margaret said, "Don't look like that. It's not so bad, only really the equivalent of cousins marrying, and that's legal.

Margaret missed something. The one who married Susan's daughter, was also a son of Harry's, by an English woman, whom he knew when he was just seventeen. Harry was Cissy's great grandfather twice over as well as her grandfather. The weakness inherent in the breeding of half brother to half sister was why the children of the marriage died very young, and probably why the three who survived until adulthood were over-sensitive, and erratic in their behaviour. One of those children had been Cissy's mother, Iris. Purely accidentally, Cissy was the product of the sort of line-breeding that is often used in pedigree animals.

It was not that Harry had left that many children scattered around the world, it was more that when they met, they tended to feel an immediate attraction.

Margaret emphasised to Harry that he had to tell Cissy as soon as possible, but in his embarrassment, Harry left it until the day before Cissy was due to go to Hogwarts, and by then Cissy and Nick were going every day to a certain thick grove of trees. It was not so much that they thought they loved each other, but they certainly liked each other, and they both loved sex. Luckily, competent witches never have accidental children.

Harry felt thoroughly guilty, and thought that maybe he should give up sex. He seriously contemplated it for at least five minutes, and then went to visit Anthea instead. Anthea was great company, and she still only had the child that she'd had when he met her. It had to have been a fluke. He was always extremely careful. As well as the spell he quietly worked straight after, the muggle women had their own methods, of course. And as he'd said to Margaret, he never went with inexperienced women.

Angus O'Brien was the manager of St. Mungo's, and the President of the Guild of Mediwizards. He had just had another polite refusal on behalf of Harry Potter, to an invitation to an Awards Dinner. They'd been trying for six months to get Harry to something like that. They wanted to make him an honorary member, in recognition of his healing work. Even when they'd dropped hints about an award, there had been consistent refusals. It seemed that Potter no longer went to any formal functions at all, and this time, hot-tempered Angus swore, pulled out the carefully prepared parchment, and ripped it into shreds.

There had been a change in feeling toward Harry since the Ministry had so treacherously attacked him. In the newspapers these days, he tended to be referred to as 'Our Harry,' and there were respectful articles on his spell-breaking, his lectures, and he was featured in the social pages whenever they had the slightest opportunity. There were quite a few opportunities these days, as he socialised widely, vanishing though, if there was any threat of speech-making. Affectionate tales were told of his eccentricities, usually exaggerated. Various young witches boasted that they'd been to bed with him, but they lied. He still avoided witches.

There were no more demonstrators calling him 'Monster,' - not since a confrontation had resulted in most of them sprouting tentacles, and two others having to be rescued from a state of rigid paralysis.

They were not rescued quickly, either - the ambulance team who had been called, had regarded their placards, and had loudly decided that they'd best just check with base first, that they thought they'd left the paperwork behind, and didn't think they could act without it. Harry was very amused when he heard about it. He'd been in Finland at the time.

The old scandal of an unnatural relationship with his daughter had almost died. There was no evidence, and there was obviously no foundation. He was known to be on excellent terms with Beth and Jeremiah, and baby Kate was undeniably brown.

October, and Healer Ben Weasley returned to England, with his bride Hilde, who was also a healer. It was at their welcome home party that Harry was finally presented with the re-written parchment indicating that he was an Honorary Member of the Guild of Mediwizards.

Harry accepted courteously, showing considerable, if insincere, gratification, and asked Barbara Bancroft at the first opportunity if this meant that he could do without a mediwizard present when he worked his cures. She answered firmly, "No, Harry, it doesn't; - would you like another caramel slice? They're very good."

Cissy settled down easily at Hogwarts, and was working hard. She had been put into Gryffindor House, although the Sorting Hat had taken a long time.

Harry's guardianship of Cissy, who looked so much like Harry, and casually explained as a relative, added to Euan's conviction that Harry Potter should not be invited to teach at Hogwarts. While Euan had a profound respect for him in many ways, and liked him very much indeed, he had definite information that Harry had been sexually involved with his own daughter, from a witness to some indiscreet play on an apparently deserted beach. There were also known to be two illegitimate children, Helmer and Julia, and now there was Cissy, whom Euan thought was probably a third.

Yarns were told about his non-stop series of girlfriends, the source often the aurors who kept so close an eye on him when they were overseas. Euan thought that, admirable as Harry was in many ways, he was lacking in moral standards, and when one day, he heard a couple of the senior Professors laughing at the way Harry Potter had needed a chaperone to protect him from the girl students, he was even more convinced. As a responsible headmaster, Euan decided that Harry should not return to Hogwarts.

Harry did some more lectures at a couple of American schools. There was a school in California that he liked very much indeed. Zefron School of Magic had only its high wall and a short strip of grass separating it from the beach. It was not like Hogwarts with its ghosts and its history, but Hogwarts didn't have a beach. He was not wanted at Hogwarts, and he knew he could find a position at Zefron any time he liked.

Nicholas left him, and started working in Germany. Margaret had told Nick about Cissy's ancestry, and while it had not become serious between them, he thought it more prudent not to see her again until one or other of them was safely married to someone else.

Harry enjoyed himself these days. There were no attempts to kill him, not even the occasional attempts at poisoning that had occurred in the past. It felt like such freedom that aurors would not appear to keep an eye on him wherever he went.There were a few places overseas where Franz insisted he not wander alone, but that was only reasonable prudence, which he tolerated. His door was still guarded at night, and if he got up after a nightmare, and unless he insisted otherwise, the guard would accompany him as he walked off the upset.

But often, just being able to be alone if he wanted, was sufficient, and he liked all the aurors who were on his team, and enjoyed their company. It was undeniable that it was safer when two men walked along strange streets at night, rather than one.

It remained peaceful at his home, and as Harry had known, Andrew did not return.

**x**

Harry didn't want to be left without horses again, and he wanted to continue the line of Sheba, so used Kintu, a daughter of Kinship, to breed from. Horses were so short-lived. It seemed that he just had to turn his back, and they were old. Jumbuck was gone now, also Corio and Kinship. Others were long gone.

He still had several grown or nearly sons and daughters of Kinship, as Jimmy Carr had continued to breed from her while he was gone. But Jimmy didn't have the contacts that Harry had, and only Kinsman had a famous racehorse as a sire. The horses were useful. Jason and Melissa Wiley used them to patrol, as they could get to potential trouble quickly.

But it continued peaceful, and after a while, they began to turn their attention to gardening, as security guards before them had done. Kevin's terriers did such a good job with their barking when visitors came that constant vigilance again seemed unnecessary. Jason and Melissa acquired a dog as well, after Harry brought home a poodle so neglected that her coat had to be shorn off. He still brought strays home now and then, and a poodle was no problem to take care of when one could just wave a wand.

Bill Forrester was still manager, although over eighty, and Chris Barnes second-in-command. Chris was no longer a city boy, although he would never acquire the extensive knowledge of landcare that Bill had.

Margaret Brown competently ruled Harry's wealth, which had grown with successful books and lecture tours, as well as his spell-breaking. Chrissy now did most of his correspondence, becoming very good at tactful excuses for not attending functions that Harry didn't like. She ran his wardrobe, too, and he found new clothes appear when needed, and when he bought things himself, they would often quietly disappear. Harry knew that everyone thought that he had bad taste, but still was invariably attracted to bright, bright colours. Only his cape was always plain black.

The only real discontent was that Harry felt a frustration every time he wanted to cure someone, and had instead to refer them to Beth. Luckily, there were not many of those, as each time he felt a renewed temptation. Maybe, he always thought, it would be all right this time. But the remembered pain had been extreme, and Hermione said that his life had been in danger besides. He resisted the temptation.

There was still a hole in his life, but the sadness of loneliness had been there so long that Harry never thought about it these days.

The months went peacefully.

**x**

Cissy left school after her final two years. She had excellent results at NEWTs level, and was accepted for training as a mediwizard.

Harry bought her the horse of her choice. It was an incredibly expensive, and very beautiful, black Andalusian. It was a mare, as Cissy thought it would be nice to breed from her later.

They played with their magic together, and Cissy learned to make dragons in the air, both of them in gales of laughter as they made their dragons fight and play. Together both Cissy and Harry tried to make their spells 'softer.' It could be a problem when spells could not be broken. But neither had any success, and resolved instead to try and make them with a specified time limit, which was easy for Harry, but Chrissy was still working on it.

**x**

Wednesday afternoon, at Ben's practice, and both Ben and Hermione were present, to watch as Cissy attempted to break spells. None of the patients had refused when previously contacted - Harry was seldom refused anything these days... Jebedee had heard what was in the wind, and he was also present as an extra observer. Melanie was the rostered observer, and Brian guarded outside.

The first patient had antlers, a fairly standard problem. It seemed often to be the same spells over and over that could not easily be broken. Harry waited and watched, as Cissy waved her wand, and chanted, "Finite Incantatum."

Three times she tried, and Harry listened and felt, and then he explained, using vague words that Cissy somehow seemed to understand anyway. The spell broke, and Harry gave a yell of sheer joy, and hugged his grand-daughter. "You can do it!" And he shook the hand of the surprised patient, and ushered him outside.

There were ten patients that day, and Cissy cured four of them. Harry felt carefully for the spells she failed on, in spite of her perseverance, and tried to work out what they had in common. He was taking notes, as the last waited, patiently, until Hermione reminded him that his patient was not yet cured.

"Oh yes, sorry," he said, scarcely glancing up, although remembering to pick up his wand.

The man lost his pig snout, his ears and his curly tail, which must have been most uncomfortable to sit on. The man still stared, as Harry seemed to have forgotten him again. The cure had been so casual. He felt almost cheated. But it was certainly good to be without those unwanted decorations, and Melanie was very polite as he was ushered out of the room.

He tried to thank the great wizard, but Melanie was saying soothingly, "Yes, send him a letter, he always answers if you just send him a letter..."

Harry was looking at his notes. "Can you read that?" he finally asked Ben. And Ben said No.

"Neither can I," admitted Harry. "I'll have to get one of those transcribers that reporters use."

And then he looked at Cissy, who was waiting hopefully for more praise. "You did brilliantly," he said. "Brilliantly!"

Jebedee was smiling, and offered her his hand. "Well done," and with the additional praise of Ben and Hermione, Cissy felt very good.

By the time she started her mediwizard training six weeks later, she was curing three quarters of the patients who were booked in for Harry. Harry finally saw the end in sight for the constant obligation that he felt for the patients that no-one else had ever been able to cure. For years, he had resisted that obligation, and gone away when he chose. But he was the only one, and he always felt guilty when he didn't do it. Now, finally, there was another...

It took four years to become a mediwizard. He was not free yet...

***chapter end***


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Notes__: Harry's adult children: Victoria, Margaret, James and Beth. Adam Bourne is his stepson. Harry's staff includes Margaret Brown, secretary, and Jimmy Carr, horse manager. Rated for mature readers. Sexual content in some chapters. _

_Chapter 8:_

Harry Potter was seventy-four, but still had the body of a man fifty years younger, and the face of a man little older. He had published books on esoteric branches of magic, had developed new theories and done new and original research, had telepathic abilities, and unprecedented power. He was the great wizard.

Julie Hibbard was a quite pretty girl of eighteen, with moderate intelligence, moderate magical ability, but considerable snobbery. She loved pomp and ceremony, and always read the social pages. When Harry first noticed her, she was repeating some spicy and nasty gossip to a female friend.

Harry Potter fell like a ton of bricks. Julie Hibbard took maybe five minutes longer. It was a mystery to all who knew them. Within days they were engaged.

And now there came a real problem for Harry Potter. Julie was a virgin, had never felt any particular desire for sex, and thought that they should wait for marriage before going to bed, and not all Harry's sexual attraction or persuasion could change her mind.

Normally when a man tells a woman that denying him sex could hurt his health, it's just a line designed to get her into bed as quickly as possible. But Harry was not a normal man, and within weeks, was getting nervy and increasingly irritable. He didn't dare just go with other women, as Julie would never forgive him. And he wouldn't lie to her. Julie thought a six month engagement necessary and proper. They were to have a very big, high society wedding, as Julie wanted, and such things could not be organised quickly.

So Harry spent a lot of time swimming in cold water, going for long walks, and before long, spending more time in meditation. By the time a month had gone by, Catherine started noticing him trembling more often. By the time a second month went by, she noticed that he had started wearing the watch that she now knew to be a sensor device for a red book/monitor. And now there were times when he held them up sometimes, either swimming, or walking, or holed up in his room. He asked Franz to put up with it, and said vaguely that sometimes he had health problems.

It was only when Catherine quizzed him that he told her about the nervous attacks that he used to have, that started with a need to move, went on into an escalating cycle of physical excitement, until, if not controlled, culminated in fitting. He was obviously uncomfortable with her questioning, so Catherine went to see Hermione the first chance she had, and learned a lot more.

There were some moves behind the scenes, and while Julie was not told that Harry's health was suffering because he was trying to be celibate for her sake, there were other hints made, and, to Harry's surprise and relief, the wedding was suddenly moved forward three months. He only had to survive four weeks more...

Early November, Julie was the radiant bride, in an incredibly expensive gown. Six hundred guests watched as Harry greeted her appearance with a tender smile, and took her hand in a caress. Some watched with tears in their eyes. He looked so happy, if very thin, and he seemed to tremble almost non-stop. All but a few put it down to nerves. Some watched with concern. What did Julie have to attract him? How could such a mismatch be successful?

Harry's family attended, of course, including Beth and Jeremiah, and little Kate. There were also all the important people the Hibbards could think of to invite. They preened themselves that even the Minister for Magic, Madam Bancroft, came. Harry said a casual hello to Barbara, while his eyes followed his bride.

Draco Malfoy watched him with amusement. With Draco were his grown up grandchildren, Nerrissa and her brother Kryall, both of them tall and pale blonde, like all the Malfoys seemed to be. Nerrissa was watching Harry Potter obsessively. Harry never noticed, his telepathic ability in temporary abeyance in his total preoccupation with Julie.

That night, in Julie's eyes, it was suddenly right and proper that they should make love. Harry had been celibate for three months, but forced himself to be tender, considerate, and to take his time. This was the basis for a marriage.

Julie was a virgin, and not a naturally sexual woman, and Harry was not a small man, to make it easier for her. All of his skills were needed now, and Harry had never in all his life made love to a young and totally inexperienced woman.

He did all right, though, as became very clear a half hour later, when she started murmuring to him, and caressing his shoulders. "More, please," and he kissed her with a great deal of tenderness, and gave her more.

Months later, they returned from a long honeymoon, after spending a great deal of money. They both glowed with health and contentment. Whatever problems lay in the future, for the time being, they were making each other very happy. Harry delighted in Julie, and Julie thought that Harry could do no wrong.

She chose the biggest upstairs bedroom, redecorated it, very expensively, and made herself at home. Her parents had been well off, and she had never been deprived of money. She knew how to spend, and while Margaret Brown turned a disapproving eye on her, Harry was happy to give her whatever she wanted. The loungeroom was redecorated also, and the downstairs bedroom that had been Harry's, although Harry was relieved that she was content to leave his office and the library the way it was. He had never noticed himself that furnishings were worn, and the curtains faded.

Julie and Harry had scarcely an interest in common, but they were happy, regardless. Marriages are not always based on similar interests. It was a mystery to most what this marriage was based on.

Cissy still lived with Harry, and Cissy was just the same age as Julie. They became friends and companions.

Julie asked Harry for a horse just like Cissy's, only pure white. Harry spent weeks trying to track one down for her. It was already twelve years old, but Harry had a shrewd suspicion that Julie's interest wouldn't last long anyway.

For a while though, the two girls would ride out on their showy horses, enjoying impressing their neighbours. Julie preened herself that Harry was willing to go to so much trouble when she expressed a wish. It proved that he loved her, she thought.

Harry thought he was being a fool, and he still adored her, and delighted in her occasional silliness and superficiality. He didn't know why, but her very weaknesses were part of his love.

**x**

It was not until after Christmas that Harry resumed spell-breaking sessions at Ben and Hilde's practice, and made arrangements to resume his overseas trips.

There were fewer patients than expected on Wednesday, as Cissy had managed a few sessions, and had coped with nearly three quarters of the demand. Harry was very pleased with her. He was hoping that given time and practice she would be able to do almost all that he did, although it had become clear that she did not, after all, have quite his power. Or not yet. She had started to earn an income, though, from the spell-breaking the same as he did. And Cissy still found a tremendous satisfaction in it.

Hilde was present to watch that Wednesday, as Harry dealt with all those cases that Cissy had not been able to manage. There was one that required the telepathic cure, but Harry was able to avoid upsetting the patient on that occasion, as he cured the condition.

Harry liked Hilde, and agreed that if he needed a healer, and Ben or Hermione were not available, that Hilde could treat him. She already knew where his home was, as they had been there for dinner one evening. He didn't really want her though. He preferred Hermione, and would have preferred Catherine, if Catherine had not been a Ministry Healer first.

Hermione wanted to check him over, and Harry allowed it. He always did what Hermione wanted these days. Hermione was pleased to see him looking so fit and vigorous. The LV was still steady at 294, energy levels high, and he was just a little bit thin, but less so than he'd been for many years.

Catherine checked his health, too, when he resumed the overseas trips, being more thorough than usual. Again Harry put up with it. And Catherine, too, found him in vigorous health.

He still had fits of trembling now and then, and still mostly carried a cane, especially outdoors. He treated those things as minor, although Julie tended to look away if he trembled. She didn't like any hint of abnormalities.

He still had four aurors when he did the overseas trips, but it was mostly because there was little to do at home. It was peaceful again in England, and Jebedee wondered if the mere presence of such a powerful wizard as Harry Potter was a deterrent to Dark Wizards. Maybe they took one look at his potential, and took their evil overseas.

Harry always went home to Julie every night now, as long as they were at least in Europe. If they were not, he'd persuade her to go with them. Julie enjoyed that, too. She loved being a person of importance, and Harry was treated with enormous respect wherever they went. And the idea of having bodyguards thrilled her.

The aurors found Harry to be very easygoing these days. It seemed that nightmares and midnight walks were things of the past.

The frequency of the trips changed. Julie liked long holidays in exotic locations, so to make up, when Harry worked, he worked every week.

There were often female aurors rostered now, as Harry no longer showed any interest in any other woman than his wife, even when they showed distinct interest in him. Jebedee changed the team every few months, giving them all a turn at the favourite duty. There were a few romances forged, as the male and female aurors worked together in pleasant surroundings, and away from their usual routine.

Harry soon found that Julie hated mention of unusual powers, so hid them from her as discreetly as he tried to hide them from notice of the Ministry. And she hated any hint of his vulnerability, becoming very silent and unhappy when Zack made a casual reference to the time he'd spent in a wheelchair. So he made allowances, and continued to take a delight in his young bride.

Three more years passed in peace and contentment.

**x**

One Friday morning in Spring, while a gentle mist covered the ground, Harry lingered in bed. Julie had her head nestled on his chest, and his arm was around her, beginning to be numb. She'd gone back to sleep after the morning love-making. He'd be late for work if she didn't wake soon, but he lay still, cuddling this girl who was so precious to him. She was pregnant, very well, and blissfully happy with Harry, and with the life that they lived together.

The team were in Albania, and already watching for him. He normally arrived about this time. There was Anthony in charge these days, two freshly qualified young aurors, Tracy and Jodie, and an older one about twenty-five, big Louis. It was an easy job, with Harry almost always departing straight after work finished, although the aurors never did. Only Harry could apparate such long distances, and he always pretended to do it in steps. Even Julie thought he did it in steps.

But they were going to have to wait for him a little this morning.

There was a gentle knock at their bedroom door, and Julie stirred. Harry gently kissed her, slipped on a dressing gown, and went to the door. Jimmy Carr was looking half concerned, and half amused. "Come and see Senorita and Lady," he said.

"Will it wait until I get dressed?" asked Harry.

"I guess, I think the damage has been done already." It only took a few minutes for Harry to have his shower, and dress, ready for work, before he followed Jimmy outside.

Grazing quietly on his lawn, outside their paddock, were the two extremely expensive Andalusian mares. They had come into season at the same time. With them, and looking very pleased with himself indeed, was a stallion belonging to the neighbour. It was not either of the Arab studs, though - this was the little pinto that was used as a teaser, the stallion that was used to get the mares in the mood to accept the nominated stallion. The poor teaser never had a chance, normally, to mount any mares himself, and Harry had always felt very sorry for him.

They quietly approached, and the little pinto pranced around, laying his ears back, and putting himself firmly between the men and the mares. Harry was very amused. These were going to be interesting foals, although he was concerned about Lady, the white one. She was a bit old for having foals.

Carefully, as even a 13hh stallion could inflict nasty injuries, they turned them into a field together, Harry wondering how on earth the little horse had escaped. He knew that the teaser was kept very well guarded, and thought that it must be a very intelligent little horse.

Jimmy was delegated to inform the neighbour, but Harry said to ask him if the little pinto could stay a few days if he wasn't needed. He reckoned the horse deserved a chance, and if the other mares, Kintu or Clarice, found their way to him, it didn't really matter. The stallion was not a bad horse, just not Andalusian, or Thoroughbred, or Arab. It was sometimes handy to have smaller horses around.

He went off to work then, where he had breakfast, and laughed with the others about the trouble the little stallion would have had to mate the big mares. But as Harry said, eyes gleaming, "There's always a way!"

There was no time left to do the hour's meditation Harry generally practised. It didn't seem to matter these days, it had only been in the months prior to his marriage that indications of nervous attacks had again appeared, and he'd been free of them for years before that.

The morning's work started easily, and Harry worked through the patients quickly and without effort, still with his mind on the likely interesting foals from a small pinto and a large Andalusian.

Then there was a difficult one, and Harry sighed. It had been so much easier when he had just had to call up his power, even if it did often make him tired. Now he had to carefully explain to the patient how he might feel, and that some people could not tolerate it. He was always careful to get their full and knowing consent. In spite of his warnings, they invariably wanted him to make the attempt.

Sometimes the patient tolerated his invasion easily. A few didn't even feel it, and usually, when the patient did revolt, there was enough warning for Harry to pull away.

But sometimes the revolt came quickly and furiously, and when Harry was still deeply concentrating on what he had to do, he was slow to react. These patients had several times injured him, usually only a bruise, but sometimes more serious. So now he nearly always had two aurors with him on these occasions.

Once he'd been cursed by a furious witch, and since then, they insisted that the patient hand over his wand before he started. The curse hadn't been serious to Harry - he'd just regarded the ugly lumps growing all over his body for a moment, and they'd melted away. But mostly they forgot about magic, and used fists, or sometimes fingernails.

He never persevered over full resistance. There was an option now, and he would refer them to Beth, even if they did have to travel. Beth could fix anyone, it seemed, using this method.

So now Harry had the big wizard in front of him, Tracy had taken the patient's wand, and both Tracy and Louis had their own wands in their hands, just in case.

Harry started to concentrate, finding the process slower than usual, although there was no hint that the alien presence in the mind of his patient was even noticed. Louis' mind began to stray. Tracy had a beautiful body, and he was remembering the previous night with pleasure, and looking forward to tonight, when he would be dining with her, and had every expectation of being invited back to her home.

The wizard went in an instant from calm to blazing fury, and swiped Harry off his feet, swiftly following it with a heavy kick in the ribs.

Louis was slow to react, and not only that, had somehow put himself between Tracy and the patient. It was Catherine who whipped out her wand, and put a spell of Deep Calm on the patient.

Harry was quietly swearing. He was on the floor, with broken ribs. He didn't move, waiting for Catherine.

"Are you all right?" asked Catherine.

"He broke some ribs," said Harry, his breathing very careful and shallow. Broken and displaced ribs could be very painful.

Catherine touched his side gently, and then started to pull away his clothing, but even this slight movement hurt, and Harry vanished his shirt instead. He could always conjure another.

Catherine jumped when the shirt abruptly vanished, but then ran her fingers gently along the rib cage, feeling for exactly what had happened, before getting out her wand, and healing them. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank you."

Slowly and carefully, he raised himself, looking at the patient, now held firmly by Louis.

"Sorry, Harry, I was slow," said Louis, looking very ashamed of himself.

"These things happen."

Harry was looking at the patient. "I wonder if I can do it when he's like that. It might be a lot safer." He looked carefully at the big wizard, even closed his eyes for a moment, and then said, "I'm going to try. Be ready this time."

The patient's mind was dense and sluggish with the spell, and to do what he wanted seemed even more difficult. And in spite of the spell, there was another surge of instant, ungovernable fury. But the aurors were ready, and the patient was stunned.

"That's enough," said Catherine firmly. "You'll have to refer him to Beth."

Harry was still moving rather slowly and painfully. And twice he'd been abruptly thrown out of the man's mind, which left him dizzy.

"We'll have a break now," stated Catherine. Harry didn't object.

The rest of the patients were easy, and the team went to lunch. They were to go home straight after. Louis was very attentive to Tracy, and without willing it, suddenly a clear picture came to Harry from Louis, of a particularly nice pair of breasts. Harry looked away, trying not to smile. No wonder Louis had been slow.

He was still stiff and sore, and he asked Catherine if she had anything to help, mentioning that he had a big job to do that afternoon.

"What is it?" asked Tracy, curiously.

"It's Julie; she wants me to find a medal. It's been lost something like sixty years!"

Catherine said that she'd put on a lotion if he liked, but it was apt to stain clothing. But Harry was wearing a lime green conjured shirt, which he suspected that Julie would dispose of even quicker than Chrissy would have done. So he said gratefully that that would be very good.

Anthony's mind was running on what Harry had said. "A medal that was lost sixty years ago? That wouldn't be your Order of Merlin, would it?"

And when Harry nodded casually, Anthony spluttered into laughter, joined by the others. Harry had been presented with the highest award available to the Ministry of Magic, and had apparently promptly lost it.

Harry looked up, surprised at the loud chorus of laughter. "Well, I had other things on my mind at the time."

"More important than an Order of Merlin, First Class?" asked Tracy. That was a very rare honour.

Harry grinned, rather shame-faced now, "Staying alive?"

Tracy asked, "Did you have bodyguards then?"

"Not then - the Ministry at that time, I suspect, would have been very happy to see me dead."

Louis was frowning, "That can't be right, the Ministry acts for the good of everybody."

Harry pointed out, "Maybe they thought that my death _would_ be for the good of everybody. You only have to remember Percy Weasley, to realise that not everybody likes me!"

"So now you've got to spend your afternoon rummaging through old clothes to find your medal."

"Pretty much," said Harry. "Julie thinks they're important."

"Have you lost any others?"

"I'm not sure," answered Harry. "It seems that Margaret was keeping them for me, and there seems to be an awful lot. I'm not sure if any are still missing, except, of course, for that old one."

The week's work was finished, and afterward, Harry went to Sirius Black's house where he was joined by Vicky. They mounted an extensive search, room by room, combing every corner of the house. At last, in a small anteroom off a dingy bedroom, not slept in for at least seventy years, Vicky came across an old school trunk, a few text books still in it, and right at the bottom, loose under some scarlet Quidditch robes, the large and flashy medal.

Harry had a few supplies in the house, though nothing disposable, and they settled down with a cup of tea each, and the biscuits that Vicky had brought with her.

"What's Julie doing now?" asked Vicky.

"Shopping, I think," said Harry, "She's with Nerrissa Malfoy - they see a lot of each other."

"Does she know about this place?" asked Vicky, curiously.

"I never got around to telling her - I don't think she'd be interested," said Harry, and Vicky took note. Somewhere inside himself, Harry didn't entirely trust his wife.

She was curious. "How is it that this place has water on, and electricity? It's supposed to be so hidden, even from the muggles?"

"I don't really know about the water," said Harry. "It's always been on, though I've never had a water bill. But the electricity is from a generator which I put in when I was first married to your mother, before we bought the farm."

"And a shower? That's pretty modern for such an old place."

"Conjured, like most of the furniture," said Harry, casually.

Vicky frowned. "I know your stuff lasts longer than anyone else's, but does it last forever?" Conjured furniture lasted normally only a few months.

Harry pointed to the chair that Vicky was sitting on. "I conjured that when I was just left school. I don't know how long my things last, none of it has ever vanished by itself."

"My conjures last about ten months," said Vicky, "Which I thought is pretty good."

"It _is _pretty good," said Harry. "But I guess I'm just not normal."

Vicky said thoughtfully, "It'll be interesting to see how long Cissy's last."

Vicky rinsed out the teacups, in preparation for departure, although it would never have occurred to Harry to do anything so domestic.

"Going now?" asked Vicky.

"As soon as I fix the shower," said Harry. "I so seldom come here, I didn't know it was broken."

"That's where we found you after you vanished from St. Mungo's, don't you remember?"

"Only vaguely," said Harry. "I remember I needed a shower, and was so relieved I could still walk." But he was looking and feeling embarrassed, and Vicky changed the subject, laughing again about the little pinto stallion, with big ambitions.

**x**

Harry had only four days to work the following week, and Anthony relayed a request to Harry that he join them Friday for a meeting at the Ministry .

Friday afternoon, Harry smiled as he strolled into Conference Room Two. Barbara was better even than Amelia at providing afternoon teas. Sarah and Stan were there, Barbara and Jebedee, as well as Anthony and himself.

For a time, there was a general discussion about the trips, and whether there was any need for adjustment to the arrangements. Harry thought that there was no problem, but pointed out as he had before, that there was really no need to pay for a room for himself, unless Julie was going also. Sarah ignored him, as she had before. Harry should have his room in case it was needed. The host country always paid the Ministry very well for these visits, as well as normally providing just about everything necessary.

Finally, Stan came to the real reason for the meeting. "Turkey," he said. "Turkey want us to visit."

They hadn't been to Turkey since the disastrous trip that had left Harry crippled in a wheelchair. There was also the matter of a bus that had exploded. The Ministry had tried to pursue compensation for a time, for the incompetence of the Turkish mediwizard, and for the lack of protection that was provided, but the negotiations had broken down.

Harry was sitting in his chair, frowning at the wall. But it had been largely his own fault that he'd suffered so badly. If he'd let Therese have a thorough look at him when they returned, she would probably have picked up the problem in time to fix it before he had suffered much damage.

There was a silence. Jebedee had been there, too. And it was Jebedee who pointed out that they were in neighbouring countries almost annually, and the Turks could always travel.

"It's a matter of politics," said Barbara. "It was over ten years ago, now, and still hardly any of the wizarding communities have forgiven them. I think we should show a lead."

Jebedee said, "If we go to Turkey, we'll need to provide a lot more aurors, and experienced ones - the Turks can't be relied upon for anything. I won't send women - I don't like the way they treat women, and I'll go myself, to try and ensure our safety. And I still don't like it."

Stan said that they were willing to pay far more than usual, and they had promised to allow English researchers in to see the cave that had something called, and he glanced at a note in front of him, the _Xinistrium._

"Are they?" said Harry. "Adam's been talking about that for ages!"

"What is it?" asked Jebedee.

Harry explained, leaving most of those present even more confused than they'd been before. But they gathered it was something fascinating and important and historical, to do with an almost unexplored branch of magic. But that the Turks had previously refused to share. It had only been discovered a few years before.

"Harry?" They were all looking at him.

"Ask Catherine," he said. "If she refuses to go, none of us should."

He helped himself to a second slice of fruitcake, and poured himself another coffee as Anthony went in search of Catherine.

When Catherine returned, Jebedee took the lead, explaining their problems the previous occasion. How Bedwin, Tom and Harry had been knocked out, and how the Turkish mediwizard had taken a bare glance at them, and cleared out. That they'd had to look after themselves when someone had set their bus to explode. Also that the Turks had paid no attention to limits on numbers, so that Harry had been exhausted half the time.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't that bad."

Catherine finally asked, "So why are we even considering it?"

Stan and Barbara gave their reasons. The principles of goodwill and forgiveness, also money and the Xinistrium.

Catherine said eagerly, "They're going to let us have a look at the Xinistrium?"

Stan nodded. "Well, we can't miss that opportunity," declared Catherine.

"Harry?" asked Barbara again.

Harry gave his feeling. "I detest the way they don't value their women. Last time I was there, I fixed a lot of women who'd been cursed. And I bet that wasn't duelling! I also suspect that they wouldn't bother sending their women to neighbouring countries, Greece for example, to be cured. I'm prepared to go," and he smiled at Catherine, "And I'd like a look at the Xinistrium, too."

***chapter end***


	9. Chapter 9

_Magical World and many characters belong to J. . _

_Notes__: Harry's adult children: Victoria, Margaret, James and Beth. Adam Bourne is his stepson. _

_Chapter 9:_

It was another month before the two week trip was organised, and then Julie upset Harry considerably by demanding that she should go, as she'd always wanted to see Turkey. Harry tried to say that she shouldn't, that it could be dangerous, that he'd be home every evening, and even tried to say that he'd have to ask Jebedee, and Jebedee would probably say no.

Julie smiled smugly, and told him that she'd gone to see Barbara, and that Barbara was coming for a few days, too, and would like her company. She also pointed out that it couldn't be that dangerous, as it was a popular tourist destination, and that Nerrissa Malfoy had visited only the previous year.

Harry gave in, as Julie expected. He always gave her what she wanted... He did try once more, "You're carrying a baby. Don't you think you'll get too tired?"

Julie smiled condescendingly, "I'm not even five months yet, and I've never felt better in my life."

Harry went to see Jebedee. He thought that if she insisted on going, that Julie should have her own protectors. Maybe Jason and Melissa Wiley, at his own expense. But Jebedee said calmly that it was no problem, that Julie would probably be happy to stay with Barbara, and might even consent to come home with her after the first week.

Harry was happier after this visit. He was probably exaggerating the danger only because of his own experiences. After all, Julie wasn't going to be trying to cure maniacal pumpkin-heads.

It was a large gathering when the day came to leave for Turkey. There was not an inexperienced auror in sight. Jebedee had changed his mind about female aurors, seeing that Julie Potter and Barbara Bancroft would be with them, and Beryl and Maureen had been assigned, especially to look after the women. There was also Franz, second in command, David, Anthony, Dean and Byron. Harry knew all these, but there were two whom he had not previously met, both originally recruited from America, Brad and Richard.

Harry looked at the array of experienced men and women who would be accompanying them. "I hope there's no trouble at home," he said, "There can't be many left!"

Jebedee replied that it had been quiet for years, and the numbers could be spared.

It wasn't Harry's worry, and Barbara had already taken Julie under her wing.

Their hotel was very nice indeed, in the tradition of top class international hotels. It had its own indoor pool, spa, and gymnasium, and there was a shopping centre underneath, which should suit Julie nicely, Harry thought fondly. Julie adored shopping.

Julie was enjoying herself. She felt so well, and Barbara was so interested in her. She chattered about Harry and their home, until Barbara started thinking that with the information handed her by Julie, the Ministry could probably quite easily find it. But Barbara liked Harry, and agreed with Jebedee when he had said once that no efforts should be made to find Harry's home, that he could live a long time, and that he would always have enemies.

For the next few days, Barbara visited important people in the mornings, and spent most of the afternoons with Julie, whom she found entertaining, if sometimes rather foolish. She did wonder what Harry saw in her, but there was no doubt that he doted on her. And when she and Julie accompanied by Beryl, David and Franz, came home from a shopping excursion, she watched in amusement as Julie excitedly showed Harry her purchases, and Harry watched her face with a quite obvious love. Harry had murmured in her ear then, and Julie had turned to him, smiling, gathered up her bundles, and they had gone off to their room for an hour. Barbara thought it was charming.

Work went pretty much the same as usual, although, as previously in Turkey, there were a lot more women patients than usual. Harry had to work his telepathic cures several times, and nearly always it was tolerated. Only once did he find his cheek slashed with some long fingernails, and he was very grateful that Catherine was able to heal it instantly and painlessly with a white lotion, leaving him only with minor and quickly fading marks.

Thursday morning, Barbara and Julie turned up wanting to observe, to Harry's consternation. He wasn't worried about Barbara, but he knew that Julie hated to see evidence that he was not as other wizards. He had no choice, though. If Barbara hadn't been there, he might have been able to claim that Jebedee wouldn't allow it. As it was, he put on an insincere smile, and said that, of course, they were welcome.

Barbara looked at him narrowly. She was quite good at detecting insincerity. But once resigned, Harry was perfectly hospitable, even conjuring a couple of special chairs for them, which Barbara and Julie, who was finally beginning to feel her pregnancy, sank into with sighs of relief.

To his relief, there seemed to be only perfectly standard patients, dealt with quickly and easily. Julie became bored, but Barbara was fascinated, and insisted that they join the team for lunch, and watch them again afterward.

At lunch, Barbara told Harry and Julie that there were a few dignitaries invited for dinner, including the Turkish Minister for Magic. But that there was no need for Harry and Julie to come if they chose not to. Julie said instantly that _of course,_ they would be there. Her new outfit, bought the previous day, would be just the thing. Harry made no objection, to the amusement of Jebedee and Franz who were close.

Most of the other aurors prowled around at varying distances, watching, alert. But there appeared to be no threats, and both Jebedee and Franz had some faith in Harry to detect danger.

Harry and the others reported back after lunch to find pumpkin-heads everywhere. Harry was having a bad day. Julie watching when he didn't want her, a formal dinner that evening, and now pumpkin-heads. And these were Turks. They'd probably take ages to get things organised. But he went methodically around the pumpkin-heads and dismissed all but two. They were dead.

He had a word with Jebedee, then, who was sitting at a conjured table and chairs outside. Harry was pointing out that pumpkin-heads were dangerous, and that it would be best if there were no observers, especially not his pregnant wife.

Jebedee asked him, "Why don't _you_ tell them, Harry?"

Harry replied, perfectly frankly, "You know why, women have always run rings around me!"

Jebedee laughed, but did his best, and the women ran rings around him, too. They would stay, and Harry would conjure a barrier to protect them, as they knew he could do.

Harry ran his hands through his hair, and turned his eyes to the sky. He really was having a bad day. And unexpectedly, two ambulance teams arrived, he had no excuse for delay.

The observers took their seats, and Byron, on Harry's request, conjured a see-through barrier to protect them. Beryl sat with them, all of them watching and waiting for Harry to work his miracles.

Barbara was saying to Julie what a remarkable wizard her husband was, and Julie was beginning to feel increasingly uncomfortable. She wanted Harry to be ordinary. She hadn't married the great wizard, she'd married the young man who had looked at her with his heart in his eyes, and wanted _her,_ Julie Hibbard, for no particular reason that even Julie could see. For deep down, Julie knew she wasn't special. She was ordinary, and it was extraordinary that she could be loved so deeply.

The first pumpkin-head came in, and Harry conjured a flexible see-through barrier around him, to protect himself and the others. He put a time limit on it so that it would not become a problem if anything happened so that he was not available to vanish it. Maybe he should teach the aurors to do the barrier, although he'd never seen one like this until he'd done it himself.

He worked very hard at keeping the pumpkin-head calm, and the first wound up just sobbing as he was led away. It had taken a while. It was always harder to do a telepathic cure when there was a barrier, and pumpkin-heads were telepathic cures.

The second pumpkin-head took even longer, but appeared to be calm when Harry let down the barrier. The ambulance men took charge as Harry stood back.

He even turned his back talking to Catherine, when the wizard who had been a pumpkin-head suddenly caught sight of him, his calm vanished, and Harry found himself being strangled. He blasted the man off with magic, but leaned against the wall, coughing, and trying to breathe, as Byron and Brad fought to control the maddened wizard. Finally a spell of Deep Calm was imposed by the mediwizard.

Julie had screamed as Harry was attacked, and Harry tried to tell her that he was fine, but as his words were interrupted by a renewed bout of coughing, she was still distressed. As soon as Barbara vanished the safety barrier that had protected them, she raced over to Harry, holding him, and telling him that he must never again do anything that put him in danger.

Catherine was watching them both as she pulled out a lotion from her bag. She thought she was beginning to understand the dynamics of this relationship, and hoped that it would last. She didn't think it would be Harry that stopped loving Julie, but Julie might stop loving Harry. He was too different.

The bruised throat was soon treated. Harry had been a lot worse hurt than that in the course of his spell-breaking, and took it for granted. Jebedee later severely rebuked Byron and Brad for their slowness, though, and reminded all the aurors that they had to be constantly alert for attacks on Harry.

At the dinner that evening, Harry spent a lot of time talking to some Turkish researchers who had been invited especially. Saturday, those interested were to visit the cave of the Xinistrium. They gave him another medal, too. Something with a long name, that Harry heard as the medal of the blue-assed fly, but he thought that was probably not quite right.

Julie was thrilled, and Harry, after his usual insincere sentence of gratified acceptance, handed it over to her. Julie examined it repeatedly, and proudly showed it off to all the others.

Barbara was returning home on Sunday, and Harry went to her privately, and asked her to _please_ try and get Julie to go home as well. Barbara agreed, but stated that she didn't really understand why, that there were many tourists here, and it didn't seem all that dangerous. None of the other tourists had bodyguards to ensure their safety. Harry just ran his hands through untidy hair, and said that he'd be happier if Julie was home.

The next day, Barbara, Catherine, Julie and an assortment of aurors joined Harry and the Turkish researchers, as they toured the cave of the Xinistrium. Harry had his transcriber in hand, that took notes for him, as he murmured to it, or sometimes just thought to it.

But after a while he stopped, and when it was time to go, he did not object. Afterward, he wandered over to Catherine, and asked quietly, "What did you think?"

Catherine was frowning, "Over-rated, I thought, even a bit suspect."

"I thought so, too. Possibly a large part faked. Adam'll be disappointed."

But then Julie was looking at them, and Harry returned to her. Julie had been very bored by the hours they'd spent admiring some ancient relics, and had spent her time flirting with a couple of the aurors instead. Not that she was the slightest bit serious. It was still Harry who was the focus of her life.

As promised, Barbara tried to persuade Julie to return with her, even saying that she always became nervous on muggle flights, and needed someone to be with her.

Julie was a touch suspicious. Two of the aurors were to return with Barbara, and she'd shown no sign of nervousness on the way over. When she made friends with a group of tourists who would be around for a few days yet, she decided definitely to stay a while longer. They were booked in for some entertaining tours, and extra tickets were available.

Jebedee listened carefully to her plans, and allocated both Beryl and Maureen to stay with her, getting tickets also if necessary. She should be fine, and she had two aurors with her if anything happened.

Everything went smoothly for the next couple of days. Julie enjoyed the company of the hospitable American tourists, and took no notice of Harry, who asked her again to return home. Harry was having nightmares more often, but Julie just soothed them away whenever he started muttering and fidgeting, and neither put any significance on them, Harry usually not even remembering them.

Wednesday, and only one more day to go to Harry's relief. It seemed that he was doing nearly all women now, and a few children. Apparently the adult males were more important and had taken priority. Harry was beginning to think that he might be a touch stronger again than he'd once been. There were a couple of patients for whom he had expected to need the strong magic, but cured instead with just a little extra effort, intensified only slightly and very cautiously above the norm. As always, the vast majority were cured with a glance.

Julie had gone off shopping with a couple of the American tourists who had a free day. But Harry knew that Beryl and Maureen were to be with them, and Jebedee had told him that David and Franz were also keeping watch. It was a large allocation from his numbers of aurors, but Harry was grateful, and said not a word to discourage him.

Julie and the muggles turned up to join them for lunch, which was luckily in a muggle area, as Julie didn't seem to have much idea of discretion. Harry was quizzed about his job, but Franz took over, and explained the plans for an industrial development that they were working on until Susan and Kate's eyes started to glaze over with boredom, and they made sure not to ask any further questions.

Soon after lunch, Harry was again in the work room as the patients were led in, one after another, cured and dismissed. Anthony and Richard were with him, Jebedee outside, plus a couple more who had joined them Sunday. Jebedee still didn't trust the Turks for any help.

Soon after lunch, Harry started to pace between patients, feeling uneasy, until he called a short break and left the room, leaving his cape draped across a chair, the wand still in the pocket. He found Jebedee just outside, talking to the two new aurors. Jebedee glanced at him, dismissed the aurors, and Harry told him that he was just going to check on Julie, and would no doubt be back in five minutes.

Jebedee was instantly alert. But Harry was gone before Jebedee had a chance to question him further, or could give him one of the devices that the aurors used to call for help.

Silently, Harry apparated into a crowded alleyway, causing a couple of people to start back in surprise, before thinking that they obviously just hadn't noticed him before. It was clustered with fascinating shops, and Harry quickly spotted Julie with the two muggles, gathered at an antique store. Harry opened his mind to the minds of the people who clustered around the women, but the only hint of a threat was from a lecherous middle-aged man who was doing his best to get close enough to grope the bottom of blonde Susan.

Harry wondered where the aurors were, but Julie had suddenly decided she was tired of having them around, and had slipped them straight after lunch, just like Harry had so often done. There was no threat apparent, there were many other tourists around, and Harry followed them a few minutes, indecisive. Susan and Kate walked ahead a little as they turned into a larger street, while Julie paused at a shop hung with bright materials. Harry sped up to talk to her. She was next to where several people waited at a bus stop. A local bus was just pulling up.

The bomb blast killed nearly all of those people, most of those on the bus, and injured many more.

Julie and Harry were both among the injured, Julie screaming in agony with the shrapnel that had entered her abdomen, but Harry, whom she'd just that moment seen, lying inert, knocked out, and bleeding heavily from deep cuts on his legs.

When Harry finally woke that evening, he was one of dozens lying on thin mattresses on the floor. The cuts on his legs had been stitched up, and his head was bandaged. His nose wrinkled. The place smelled dreadfully. His next alarmed thought was for Julie, and he opened his mind and searched. She wasn't far away, and he could feel that she was resting, but in pain.

He pulled himself to his feet, discovering quickly that he was naked, and that his legs were very sore. He felt the damage, knew that it wasn't serious, and healed the cuts. Then he conjured himself some clothes, in dull colours for a change, and dressed, only staggering now and then.

The patient lying next to him watched him, but his gaze was dulled with pain and with illness, and Harry ignored him. A very over-worked nurse saw him as he left, but took no notice. Many people were moving around, looking for missing relatives, hoping that they would not find them among the dead, in a temporary morgue down the passage.

Harry had his mind fixed on Julie as he headed unerringly toward the better ward where foreigners and tourists had mostly been put. He paused beside one mattress, where a badly injured man lay. Instead of pain and shock, his mind was full of satisfaction and anticipation. This man firmly believed that he would be rewarded by Allah for his work with the bomb. But Harry could feel that he was dying, and passed him by.

Julie was in a bed. She turned pain filled eyes to Harry, and said accusingly, "My baby's dead. You were supposed to protect me."

"Julie," said Harry, his heart breaking for his wife.

There was no forgiveness in her eyes. "They took away my womb. I'll never be able to have children. Why did you bring me to this place?"

Harry took her hand, and she clasped it tight as she was swept with another wave of pain. After a while, a nurse came, and gave her an injection. Julie went to sleep.

Harry gently removed his hand from hers, and stood. He had a job to do. But first he called Jebedee, telepathically, and told him that they had been in a bomb blast, the information having been fed to him by numerous minds as he passed. That he was all right, but that Julie needed help, and he didn't know about Susan and Kate.

But Kate and Sue were already back at the hotel. Kate had a few cuts and bruises, but Sue was totally unhurt, her body shielded by a man who had just grabbed her bottom. The man was killed, messily.

Harry waited a little until he felt the presence of Franz and Catherine who were approaching, scanning the faces of each patient as they did. And then he slipped past them, cloaking himself in invisibility, as he could do. Merely a matter of filling the surrounding minds with a perception that he should not be noticed.

He returned to the dying man who had triggered the bomb, from a distance a little too close for his own safety. Harry was lucky. With the man was another, wearing the garb of a religious cleric, and, like the first man, filled with satisfaction that he had destroyed lives for the glory of Allah.

Harry carefully felt his mind. There were five men, he thought, in the terrorist cell, not counting those who only followed orders. Harry knew this man now, and would be able to feel his presence, and apparate to him. And when the man took a taxi, and could no longer be followed on foot, that's what he did.

The five were gathered in a small room around a table, drafting a proclamation of responsibility for the successful bombing. The room reeked of fanaticism. They leapt up with gabbles of alarm as Harry silently appeared in the room.

Harry exerted his will, and five men sat down again, suddenly calm. He picked up the paper on the table, taking in its meaning from the mind of the leader, as it was not in a language he knew sufficiently well to read. He decided that they would make a new proclamation. This time they still admitted to responsibility for the bombing, but said that Allah had appeared to them and explained that he did not condone the killing of any person, infidel, tourist, or even American. And that Allah had promised to admit them to the glory of paradise, but that with the message delivered, no other who killed in his name would be admitted to Paradise.

He filled the minds of the five fanatics with the bliss of their religion, and then they died, methodically, one by one. And just in case, he checked carefully for cameras. He had no wish to be held accountable for these killings.

Harry Potter had killed again, and thought himself fully justified. Those men were never going to change their minds, they had killed scores that day, including Harry and Julie's unborn baby, and the world was better with them dead.

Harry didn't really expect that anyone would believe that Allah had appeared to them, on the other hand, he had a very low opinion of the intelligence of religious fanatics.

Job done, he felt again for Julie, and apparated back into their own hotel room, where Catherine was treating her. Julie looked at him, and spat, "Get away from me!" Beryl was with them, inconspicuous in the corner of the room.

Jebedee found Harry in the sitting room that had been allotted to the group. He still had a bloodstained, and not very clean bandage around his head, and was in awkward looking clothes. He stared into the distance, scarcely noticing when Jebedee joined him.

"Harry?" Jebedee said, and gently, "Catherine's waiting for you."

Harry obeyed, and Catherine removed the bandage and healed the head wound. She was having to bully him a little, as he didn't want to take off his clothes, saying that he wasn't hurt.

"Do it, Harry," ordered Jebedee, and Harry took off his clothes.

Catherine checked him over thoroughly, and then got out her lotions. He was bruised in many places, there was still a lot of blood smeared on his thighs, and he had healed one of the cuts crookedly.

"That'll scar," she said, almost talking to herself.

Harry took it in dully. Another scar to add to the collection. Would Julie forgive him?

But Catherine read his mind. "Don't worry about Julie, she'll be all right. She's just being a touch unreasonable now, from the shock and grief."

Harry looked at her. "Will she really be all right?"

Catherine said firmly, "She'll be all right. She's already admitted that it wasn't your fault, so go and hold her hand for a while. It_ will_ be all right."

So Harry went and held Julie's hand for a while, and she squeezed it and said that she was sorry, she shouldn't have blamed him. But it wasn't really all right, and wouldn't be for a long time.

Thursday afternoon, the team were back at work, Maureen and Beryl staying with Julie, and Catherine checking in at every break. Harry was fully recovered, and as quick and competent as always, although it was obvious that he wasn't paying much attention. But that was nothing new, the patients were cured, and none of them complained.

Friday afternoon, a day late, they concluded the work, and were able to return to England. Julie had had the benefit of Catherine's healing spells and lotions, and was fit to apparate. They were both very relieved to be home.

**x**

Julie was moping around the house and Harry was very worried. He had a week off after Turkey, and hung around her, trying to anticipate her wishes, wishing he could fix things for her as easily he did for his spell-bound patients. He had once fixed a man who had been castrated, but the castration had been by his own magic, and he didn't know himself how he had fixed him. He knew that he could not magically fix this injury, as he had not been able to magically cure the cancer that Luna had suffered from.

Julie was grieving. It was not just for the unborn baby that she'd lost, it was for the total loss of the hope of ever having another. And it was also because of Harry. Harry had been supposed to look after her, and he had failed her. She knew logically that there was nothing that Harry could have done, that it was even a very rare thing that he'd been able to find her as she walked toward the bomb, but deep inside, she blamed him anyway.

Tuesday that week, Harry saddled and bridled Lady, in her fancy and ornate harness, whistled up Kinsman and leapt easily onto his bare back as usual, and persuaded Julie to join him for a ride.

They rode gently around the perimeter track, until Julie suddenly said that she wanted to go onto the moors, that she wanted to go very fast. Harry understood the feeling, and suggested a different horse. Kentucky could go fast, so Harry saddled the chestnut instead, and together Julie and Harry galloped hard across the moors. Galloping until the horses' sides heaved, and Julie's misery lessened.

Harry was a firm believer in the healing powers of horses, and they rode every day, galloping on the moors, not using the mares, as they were all in foal now, including Clarice who had also fancied the little Pinto. The only work that Harry did that week was a quick stint in Ben's office, cleaning up the patients that Cissy had failed. Cissy had largely taken over this job now, being able to quite easily organise a weekly session around her training. She was nearly finished her fourth and final year.

In July, for the first time in quite a few years, Harry attended a formal function that Julie didn't drag him to, a Graduation Dinner at St. Mungo's. Cissy was a qualified mediwizard. For a few years, she planned to work at St. Mungo's for the wide experience she needed. Later, she thought, she might try and take over a lot of Harry's overseas work, which, she knew, Harry would welcome. Maybe she could do the bulk of the work, and Harry could just come on the last day to clean up those she had missed.

Try as she might, there were still some that Harry could do without the slightest worry, and that she could not. Harry thought that it was more because she could not as clearly feel the spell as he could, rather than lack of power. She had not been able to master the telepathic cures at all. It seemed she just didn't have the required talents of telepathy. Neither could she break the spells of those for whom Harry needed that little extra power that observers felt as a tingle in the air, and she had no capability equivalent to the power that Harry had, to call up the strong magic that used to mean that, for years, Harry did not have a failure. But Harry had been a lot older than twenty-one when he first found that he could do that.

Straight after the Graduation Dinner, Harry took Julie with him for an indefinite holiday at his favourite beach in California. It was near to where the team always stayed for the first week of their annual three weeks in America, and not far from Zefron School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. Sarah knew not to arrange any further overseas trips until he let her know, and only organised into some sort of order of priority those requests she was getting.

On the surface, for a few weeks, it seemed that everything was all right between Harry and Julie. Almost straight away, they had resumed their sex life, as Julie as well as Harry found a need for the closeness, as well as for the physical release. Harry's birthday came a week into the holiday, and she bought him an expensive set of dress robes, as well as a couple of vivid touristy shirts that she planned to let him wear for just the time they were on holiday. She had no intention of allowing him to wear them where anyone they knew might see.

Whenever he had a birthday, his actual age was never mentioned. On this birthday, he was seventy-eight, but his lithe, strong body showed just how abnormal he was. And Julie hated abnormalities.

One day, as he settled himself into his familiar conjured easy chair for the habitual hour's morning meditation, she waited until his thoughts were far away, and, quite deliberately, she dropped a metal tray loaded with crockery on the floor. The crash made him jump, ruined the quiet time, and left him with a fit of trembling, which she regarded with a look of scorn.

He never said a word of criticism to her, but went to a different room from then on. Even then, he was not immune to disturbance, as she would often follow him, sometimes to make apparently casual conversation, sometimes deciding that she needed to do some noisy activity in that very room. Harry gave it up for a time. It didn't really seem essential any more.

But then there was something else. She became pettish and irritable, refusing him sex. And one day he came home from walking along the beach, and found her having sex with a man she'd met a few days before. Harry had appeared quietly, and the man hadn't even noticed that he was there.

Julie looked at him from under the man, and her eyes were half closed in passion, but there was also a spark of hatred. The man was still engaged in sex, Julie was obviously engaged in revenge. Harry went back to the beach where he sat and thought.

He loved Julie. The physical act of sex with another man seemed minor to him, but her motives were major. She wanted to hurt him. He wanted to keep her. When he went back to her, an hour later, the man was gone, and he tried to talk to her. But she looked at him with spiteful eyes, and he went and made a cup of hot chocolate for her instead. She liked hot chocolate. Julie was hurting, and he refused to hurt her more by turning against her.

In the next few weeks, it seemed as if she tried harder and harder to make him hate her. There were more men, random men, nearly always where he would be sure to see them. Harry wished he could just make love with her, and everything would be all right, but she was no longer interested in love-making with her husband.

He began to be in trouble. One day, he found himself walking along the beach harder and harder, frantically, trembling when he finally returned in exhaustion. He walked past her, where she sat smiling at yet another man, to their bedroom.

Right at the bottom of his suitcase, where he always kept it, was the monitor he'd invented, a shabby red book that showed a few significant readings, and a sensor device that looked like a watch. Slipping on the watch-band, he saw straight away what he feared. The spiking of the LV and energy readings that were a warning of a nervous attack, and the warning of a fit, although that was not yet close. He crossed his fingers that she wouldn't interrupt him, and sat in his chair to think it away.

In the other room, the man had finished his coffee, and was feeling distinctly uneasy. Julie had casually admitted that the man who had entered the little holiday flat was her husband, and the ordinary looking man couldn't work out why she had seemed interested in himself. That man had been wearing only a brief pair of shorts, with a towel draped across his shoulder, and even though he carried a cane, Paul profoundly envied the beautifully defined muscles of back and shoulders. Maybe he was gay, and shortchanging his wife. All the same, he didn't have the gall to cuckold a man who was apparently sitting quietly in the next room.

Harry was getting on top of the problem. The monitor, as yet unobserved, was showing a lessening of the sinister spiking of the readings.

Julie, her man gone, entered the room, and just looked. He had his head leaned back, his eyes closed. Julia knew what he was doing, although he'd never really explained why he tried to do it every morning. She thought it abnormal, but in her love, had put up with it. But now she was filled with an overwhelming feeling of spite. She went across to him, and kicked him as hard as she could on the leg.

Harry jumped violently, the trembling was instantly there again, and still he did not rebuke his wife. Maybe he _was _a fool.

He went out again, trembling more violently than before, and depending on his cane to keep his balance. This time he swam, and again he started to bring it under control, finally beating it with a session of meditation, discreetly hidden among some bushes next to the beach.

There was one thing that gave him hope. She may be refusing him sex, but they still slept together, and she would often move close to him, and cling to him in the night. He waited. No matter what, he loved her. It was hard to say whether she knew how much she was hurting him when she sabotaged his attempts at meditation, or refused him the sex his body needed.

On the first of September, Julie suddenly declared that she wanted to go home. Twenty-four hours later, they were home, leaving the little flat abruptly vacated.

Harry wore the wrist-band sensor all the time now. He was having a great deal of trouble keeping the condition under control, although except for that difficult engagement, he'd had no problems for many years. Four times more, Harry had real problems, and the threat of a fit had been very real that last time.

One Sunday, he finally admitted to Julie that he could become very sick if she didn't, at least, allow him his hour's meditation. He found it more difficult to concentrate when he had to hide from her. The familiar chair, and the familiar surroundings helped him to concentrate. He still did not say that he needed sex. He felt she had a perfect right to refuse if she chose, whether or not it hurt her husband.

Julie looked at him, tears came to her eyes, and she apologised. A little later, he found her crying into the fur of Sambo, the enormous black dog that Chrissy had found to replace Jimbo. And yet, the next time he tried to ward off a nervous attack, another loud crash interrupted his concentration.

Old Milly was theoretically the cook, although these days, she did no work, but sat in a comfortable chair in the warmth of the stove and bossed around her niece. Lately she'd started to use the swimming pool, letting herself gently down the steps, and allowing the water to soothe the aches of old bones. When she saw the boss enter, trembling, and dive in to lap the pool again and again, swiftly and almost frantically, she pulled herself out of the pool, and had a look in the loungeroom. An old leather book lay open on the table. She knew exactly what it was, although only a portion of Genesis rewarded curious eyes.

She called Hermione. For years, Hermione had been insistent that Harry's staff go over his head, if necessary, and call her if they thought he was in trouble. Her duty done, Milly hobbled back to the kitchen.

Hermione arrived, but she took nearly half an hour. Although she still apparated, in spite of her age, it was a fair walk from the Apparation Zone to the house. There was another area within the house that she knew of open to apparation, but she disliked it as it needed a lot of precision. She was afraid that she was beginning to lose her precision.

Hermione entered the house that she knew very well by now. There was no-one in the loungeroom. The monitor was still there, though, and she saw the severe spiking, and indications that a fit was imminent, and was very concerned. More and more worried, she looked for Harry. She saw Julie, who seemed to be sorting out clothes. There were baby clothes in a heap on the floor. But Harry was nowhere to be seen.

Milly was in the kitchen, a black and white cat on her knee.

"Where's Harry?" asked Hermione. "He's not in the swimming pool, or in the lounge room or his bedroom."

Milly answered in tones that no-one else would have dared, "Hiding from that nasty young wife of his, I daresay."

Hermione stared at her in bafflement. She knew of the incident in Turkey, and the loss of the baby, but she had heard nothing of problems between Harry and Julia.

She went back to the loungeroom, and watched the monitor. The spiking was becoming less, and the risk of a fit was diminishing. Wherever he was, Harry was controlling it. Hermione continued watching carefully, until there was a loud crash, and suddenly the spiking was back, and a fit was imminent. Even the consciousness indicator jumped.

Hermione picked up the monitor and followed the noise, finding Julie with a pile of heavy books at her feet, and Harry confronting her, shaking and trembling violently. Hermione could scarcely believe that Julie had quite deliberately sabotaged Harry's attempts to control the old condition. But Julie was looking at him with an expression of absolute spite on her face.

"Harry." said Hermione commandingly, "Come with me."

She took him to the bedroom, firmly locked the door with the aid of magic, and asked him what it was to be, "A stunning or a fit."

Harry was reluctant, pacing the floor, and running his hands through his mop of black hair. "I can control it, I know I can, if she'd only leave me alone!"

Hermione took no notice. "Look at the monitor, Harry. I have to do it. Stay still."

He turned to her and stood still for the stun spell that would save him from a fit. Fits had done terrible damage to him in the past. Harry Potter was terrified of fits.

Will was called, picked him up from the floor, and put him in the bed. Hermione would not allow Julie close, and Harry's staff did exactly what she said. But when Harry woke, he over-ruled her, and Julie cuddled him in bed, and soothed away a beginning nightmare.

Hermione didn't understand it, and finally talked to Margaret, who sent an urgent message to Beth.

Harry was exercising in his gymnasium when Beth and her daughter Kate arrived. Kate was seven now, and a very beautiful girl. It was to the surprise of Beth, who was so plain, but Kate had slanting green eyes, black hair, and a sparkling, flashing smile, that lit up her brown face. She was like an exotic flower.

Harry thought things were improving between himself and Julie. She had abruptly changed her mind, and they had made love the previous few nights. She had left him alone when he meditated, and they had galloped together on the moors.

Harry welcomed Beth and Kate, not knowing that Meg had called them in because of her concern for him.

Beth looked at him carefully. He was certainly too thin again, but there didn't seem much else wrong with him on the surface, but she found that his mind was guarded from her. She knew that she could look at his mind if she chose anyway, but didn't. People must be allowed their privacy. Besides, he'd probably feel her and be very annoyed.

Kate ran about the property, looking at the horses, especially Kintu with her latest foal, which bucked and played in the pleasure of being young. The place seemed over-run with horses now, but Harry said rather defensively that Melissa and Jason, and Jimmy Carr all rode them, as well as Julie sometimes. Also Cissy on the occasions when she came home.

Beth watched him with amusement. It seemed to her that in some ways, Harry might never grow up. In other ways, he had a maturity that most people never attain.

Kate had a request. She didn't care that it was nearly lunchtime, and that they hadn't unpacked or even chosen bedrooms for their stay, she wanted a ride on the pretty little yellow horse. Harry was agreeable. "Beth?"

Beth pointed to Senorita, Cissy's horse.

"Fine," said Harry. "She's in foal, so we shouldn't gallop her, but a little exercise will do her good. Cissy'll be happy for you to borrow her."

Julie watched them go, and her eyes were narrowed in spite again. She knew she was being silly and wicked, and she couldn't seem to help it. That evening, she told Harry that she had a headache, and later, when he started into a nightmare, she pulled herself to the other side of the bed and watched as he became increasingly agitated, and finally woke with a violent start, flinging himself out of bed, flooding the room with light, and trembling violently.

Her face showed a vengeful satisfaction as Harry got to his feet, still trembling, picked up his cane, and said to her, even his voice shaking, that he was going for a walk.

As in years gone by, Beth, too, was woken by his nightmare. The alarm and panic that he felt seemed to rip through the house. Wrapped in a dressing gown against the chill, she was in time to see him setting off out the door. He was unguarded now, and she felt his sorrow and concern for his wife, overlaying the worries of a nervous attack that he had to fight off.

Harry was all right this time, soothing the need for exercise with his long walk, and finishing with an hour in his chair in the loungeroom before returning to bed. He knew himself so well by this time that he didn't even bother checking the monitor.

Beth found him the following day, in a back paddock, talking to a couple of aged horses. She knew them - one was Fraidy Cat, whom she'd ridden herself so often. There was Lockerbie, too, a tall ex-racehorse, very old now. They were still valued, still pampered, although no longer ridden. A warm shelter had been built in the paddock, that they could enter and leave whenever they wished.

"What's she trying to do to you, Dad?" asked Beth.

Harry turned, leaning his back against the strong fence, his eyes following Kate in the distance. She was playing at a small water hole with the two Barnes children.

"She's hurting. I let her down, and she can't quite forgive me."

Beth didn't say that it made no sense, she knew that strong emotions often made no sense. "You might have to leave her. She's going to kill you if you're not careful."

"She won't kill me - and I'll never leave her."

An hour later, he was watching Jimmy Carr, who was engaged in giving a riding lesson to the two sons of Chris. Kate, on Mustang, had joined in. The boys were on horses that appeared very big for them, but the only pony on the property was Mustang. And the children were firmly told that their backs should be straight, heels down, and all the rest.

The boss listened, although when he rode, he habitually leapt onto his horse bareback, legs dangling, shoulders rounded, and never paid the slightest attention to a 'correct' riding position.

Beth had been called for a reason. And although she scarcely knew Julie, Julie agreed when she suggested that they take out a couple of the horses for a ride on the moors. So Beth and Julie took the Andalusians, gently walking, and after a while, talking. They stopped in the shelter of a high stone fence, and sat on a conjured blanket as they looked at the beauty around them.

And after a while, after a long silence, Julie said abruptly, "I don't mean to hurt him, it just seems I can't help it!"

Beth's eyes were following a hawk in the distance. "You still love him?"

Julie nodded, and suddenly her eyes filled with tears, and she sobbed in the arms of the large and ungraceful woman, who could give such great comfort.

Julie was less unhappy after that, and she stopped trying to hurt her husband, whether or not he had let her down. Her husband was human, and Julie was growing up.

A couple of days later, Beth felt the joyousness of their lovemaking filling the air, in the middle of the day, from a hayshed near a back paddock. Beth smiled. She could go home soon. She was missing Jeremiah.

***chapter end***


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter & his world belong to J. K. Rowling.___

_Notes__: Harry's adult children: Victoria, Margaret, James and Beth. Adam Bourne is his stepson. _

_Rated M for for mature readers. Some sexual content in this chapter. _

_Chapter 10:_

With his preoccupation with Julie, Harry hadn't worked for nearly three months, except for a few trips to Ben's office to clean up the cases that Cissy hadn't managed. But now it was back to the routine.

The first trip was to be Greece, one of Harry's favourite destinations. It was such a beautiful spot, where they always stopped. Sarah had a rough schedule worked out now, most places being visited once every two years, some every year, such as Sweden and Germany, where they were still keen on wizard duelling.

The three week trip to America had become an annual event, almost always in February, although they had to work around Harry. If he was not available, that was it. No-one could take his place, although Barbara had her eye on Cissy. She, too, had a Ministry observer when she worked, and her results were carefully noted. She succeeded with about three quarters of the patients, and it was thought she might probably grow in power with age, as Harry had.

Yet Cissy was never thought of as too powerful and potentially dangerous, as Harry had so often been. The Ministry, like nearly everyone else, assumed that Cissy was Harry's love-child.

The team consisted of Anthony, now thirty-eight, big Louis and small Tracy, who were married now, and a freshly qualified auror called Joe. Catherine had enjoyed a holiday also, and she was looking refreshed and more stern than ever, as she strode in last.

They were just about to leave when Julie, escorted by a clerk carrying her two heavy suitcases, entered the room where they were gathered. Looking at Harry, she asked, "Do you mind if I come too?"

Harry smiled at her, "I'd be delighted."

Anthony was in charge, and as a matter of form, Harry asked if he minded. Anthony was quite pleased. He enjoyed Harry's company, and these days, Harry always only came for work hours, and then returned home. But it was different when Julie was there.

It was a bit cold for swimming, to everyone else's mind but Harry's, and only Harry entered the water before lunch.

Catherine was watching him carefully as he emerged - he seemed very thin, although she noted that the cut on his leg had not, after all, made a scar. And instead of doing only the routine measures of weight and Nisco, she ordered him to her room for a more thorough checkup. He protested, but Julie was approaching, and he quickly said that he'd be there shortly, and turned his back on her, to go to Julie, who was wrapping him in a large towel, and saying that he should stay out of the water when it was so cold. Harry kissed her and agreed that he should stay out of the water.

As promised, he reported to Catherine's room for a checkup, although telling Julie that he just had to see Anthony about the schedule. Catherine was quick and efficient, the only thing that could be found to indicate concern was that Harry was distinctly too thin.

Catherine had been watching over Harry for quite a few years now, and knew that he quickly lost weight when over-tired or ill, but Harry brushed it off, and told her nothing about recent problems. He wanted Catherine to be as she always was, brisk, no-nonsense, without fuss. Catherine looked at him narrowly, and dismissed him. She was sure that there'd been something, but he appeared perfectly all right now.

The work that afternoon was routine, and while Harry worked, Julie enjoyed herself wandering about the attractive tourist town with Tracy. It was a very beautiful place.

The week went well. The work was easy, and every day they finished early. Harry didn't have to refer any patients to Beth, and Anthony was happy for Tracy to stay with Julie while Harry worked. Straight after work, Harry would always swim, and Julie gave up telling him that he shouldn't. Instead, she warmed a large towel as she waited for him, dried him while he stood patiently, and then they'd go to their room for an hour of love-making before dinner. She told him that he needed to work off the cold...

Louis watched what was happening, and went swimming one day with Harry. But Tracy did not wait for him with a large, warmed towel, and instead, just laughed at his goosebumps.

Julie came with them for the next few weeks. They had the same team, and the destinations were pleasant. The Ministry thought it important that Harry be kept happy, as he brought such prestige and profits to them. Sandra Darke had now taken over as head of the Department of International Cooperation, and as there were so few problems, (except when they went to Turkey,) she made no changes.

For four weeks, Julie went with them, and Catherine quietly noted that Harry was no longer as thin. But one Tuesday, Tracy confided to Julie that she was pregnant, but keeping it quiet for a while, as she didn't want to be put on a desk job. Julie greeted the news with the expected pleasure and congratulations, but was rather quiet for the next few days, and decided not to go with them for a couple of weeks. Harry looked at her with worry, but she said nothing, and he would not invade her privacy.

**x**

Julie was spending a lot of time with Nerrissa Malfoy. Nerrissa was a few years older than Julie, but Julie thought that they shared a lot of tastes. Nerrissa meant that she should think that. One thing that Julie didn't know was that Nerrissa was fascinated with her husband. She'd tried to get him into bed with her once, before he had married Julie. But Harry avoided witches, and had taken no notice of her.

A year after Harry married Julie, Nerrissa had made a discovery. Lucius, her father, had been dead for a number of years, and Nerrissa and her brother Kryall were exploring some old things that had been in his possession. Among them was an old-fashioned muggle video player, along with a very large number of video's. It took a while to work them, and Kryall had wandered off after a time, bored. He'd thought it was sex-play that Nerrissa was wanting, not to sort through dusty mementos of no value.

When Nerrissa managed to start up a video, she was alone. It was a very boring film, that first one. All it showed was a man asleep on a bed. There were ropes dangling from each wrist, and once a masked wizard had come and administered an injection. After a time, Nerrissa found out how to work the fast forward button, but there was no motion from the man in all the time she watched.

She tried another. There was a lot more action on this one, and Nerrissa became very aroused as she watched film of the systematic breaking of nearly every bone in the man's body. She went in search of Kryall after watching that...

For the next weeks, Nerrissa watched film after film. They didn't seem to be in any sort of order, and were not marked. Most of them only showed a man lying inert on a bed, or on the floor. In some of them, he looked almost dead. But there were others. Once the man's eyes had opened, and he'd struggled to get up. There was a shout, a stun spell, and another injection.

Often there would be film of masked wizards trying to get him to eat or drink, with apparently little success. She wondered why they kept him in such deep unconsciousness. Surely he would be easier to keep alive if they let him rouse enough to eat, and he was only one man, and without his wand. What could he do?

These films were the routine, and unused film that had been discarded after the editing of the record of Harry Potter's captivity. But Nerrissa had been a small child when that had happened, and her family didn't talk about it. She would have identified the unconscious man a lot quicker if she'd seen one of the films that was accompanied by the narration, or that was deliberately prepared for the final version.

She'd watched hours of film from an unmoving camera when she finally found one that showed the man's face, clearly in close-up, apparently from a hand-held camera. It was Harry Potter, and she remembered stories of an old kidnap. She studied it, and jumped as loud music suddenly sounded, and then the man's body was jerking and trembling under the torture spell.

Nerrissa Malfoy watched, panting slightly, avidly, as the torture ceased, and the man was left. He was white faced, and the camera showed him still in close-up, a sheen of sweat on his face. He gave a half muttered groan, and his head turned slightly. Nerrissa peered closer at the closed eyes, and even reached out a hand as if to touch the sweat. Ten minutes passed, slowly, and suddenly a masked wizard came into sight again, a wand was aimed, and the music blasted loudly. Nerrissa started playing with herself as she watched the film of Harry Potter being tortured, and climaxed just as they started on him a third time.

Nerrissa had been watching the films for three years. The final edited version had been difficult to get hold of, as the people who had copies wanted to keep them. When she did, she watched with fascination, but somehow it was the other films that she liked more. They were secret, not shared with all those others who had watched the film of his captivity.

There was the film that showed his revenge, too, and that film gave her pause. But surely he wouldn't hurt a woman, and anyway, she only wanted to make love with him, she thought. And if she couldn't do that, she wanted to see him making love with someone else. Nerrissa had a broad definition of making love. There was Mistress Annie, a Squib whom she knew well. Mistress Annie had a lot of customers for her play sessions in her Dungeon.

Nerrissa had taken pains to get to know Julie, but she kept away from Harry. She wasn't sure how much of the stories were true about his powers of telepathy. Now that she knew the identity of the unconscious man on the film, it was clear why his captors had treated him with such caution.

It would soon be Julie and Harry's wedding anniversary. Nerrissa had an idea, but Julie needed to talk to a friend of Nerrissa's before she accepted the idea. The hypnotic suggestion laced with magic was easier to instil than Nerrissa's friend had expected. Somewhere in Julie there was still a desire to hurt Harry.

They needed Cissy, too. But Cissy's role would be more direct, and an Imperius Curse would be needed to control Cissy. Harry could not break Cissy's spells, or vanish her conjures. Or not unless he used the strong magic, but he could no longer use the strong magic.

Nerrissa was good at planning things, and Julie's chatter helped. The spells that Cissy had mastered under Harry's tuition were especially interesting. There was the transparent, flexible barrier that Harry used sometimes to protect himself from his patients. Together, Cissy and Harry had worked on the magic that could make a barrier that was transparent to telepathy, and also one that was almost impervious to telepathy, as well as to spells. They thought it would make a good defence if that was ever needed.

Julie had watched, as together they had concentrated on refining the concept. Harry probably wouldn't have done that if he'd realised that Julie was watching them. He had no real secrets from Cissy, who knew to be discreet, but Julie still always felt uneasy when unusual powers were shown, and telepathy was a very unusual power.

The wedding anniversary was on a Saturday, and Harry had given Julie an elaborate and showy necklace of precious stones. He knew she loved things like that, the showier the better, in order to impress her friends. But Julie was giggly as she said that he had to wait for his present, that it was a surprise, and that she knew that he'd love it. Harry didn't like surprises, but his wife was full of pleasurable anticipation, and he knew that she fully believed that he would find it good.

The evening came, and as Julie instructed, they apparated to a certain place in London that they both knew. After a short trip in a muggle taxi, his giggling wife instructed Harry to get out, and then she reached up, took his glasses, and put a soft blindfold over his eyes.

Harry was uneasy, and said, "Julie, are you sure this is right."

But Julie put a finger to his lips, and said firmly that he had to do as he was told, that he would love it.

Harry felt her sincerity. Julie fully believed that, whatever it was, he would love it. Even then, he started to put up a hand to pull off the blindfold, saying, "I've got to be able to see - what if there are enemies?"

But Julie took his hand, kissed him passionately on the palm, and said huskily, "There are no enemies. If you love me, do what I say."

There was no feeling of danger, but Harry's sense of danger was not infallible. But this was his wife, whom he loved, and would do a lot to please.

He allowed her to lead him through a door, and then through another. She instructed him to stay still as she slipped another blindfold over his head, a leather hood that fully covered eyes and ears, but not the mouth, and there were thin patches over the ears. It had been conjured by Cissy, under instructions. Nerrissa wanted Harry to be able to scream. There had not been a scream in all those hours of film. She also wanted him to hear Julie scream. That was a thought that excited her.

"Julie?" said Harry, his voice strained. But what was he worrying about? He could vanish the hood if he chose.

Two cameras were rolling, but Nerrissa and Kryall were two rooms away, and were behind a barrier that Cissy had conjured, almost impervious to both telepathy and magic. There was a barrier also in the corner of a room where they'd taken Harry. Cissy stood behind it. Harry must not be able to influence Cissy. There was no intervening magical barrier between Cissy and Nerrissa, as Nerrissa needed to be able to issue her instructions.

From their safe place, Nerrissa and Kryall watched and listened, using muggle technology.

Julie was very close, murmuring to Harry, caressing him, and then passionately kissing him on the lips as she manoeuvred him with his back to the wall. Harry was not responding. He had seldom felt less amorous. The wall had already been reinforced by Cissy, so that he would not be able to destroy it with his magic.

The wife whom he adored took both Harry's hands and stretched them back against the wall. Cissy stepped out from behind her barrier, pointed her wand, and Harry's hands were, in an instant, tightly tied to the wall. That was enough, and Harry said firmly to Julie, that it was enough. That he couldn't stand being tied, and that whatever she had in mind, it was not going to work. It was a brave attempt, but his hands were tied, and that turned his insides to jelly.

There was another female voice. "Does the little man not like being tied, then?"

Julie had her wand out, said the word, and his clothes vanished. Now he was naked, and there were hands on his body. Exploring hands, and that other voice.

"You'll soon learn to like it - Mistress Annie will teach you," and she took a nipple between her fingers, and tweaked it painfully.

But Harry had no qualms about using magic against 'Mistress Annie,' and she was sent sprawling. He said coldly, "You have made a mistake. Free me!"

Julie was not so easily swayed from her purpose, and only came up close again, caressing his chest, and running a hand down his flank. Annie watched from a distance, thoroughly daunted. Her usual customers were middle aged men with big bellies, but this man was very desirable. She stayed away, leaving it to his wife, who had paid good money for the use of her Dungeon.

"Free me!" he said again, with a firm command in his voice. He used no magic. He would not use magic against Julie.

Julie was still in a state of sexual arousal, the suggestion that had been implanted had been powerful.

"Relax and enjoy it!" she said in her voice of passion. "This will be an experience that you'll remember for the rest of your life." Her hand had gone to his penis, caressing, fondling.

"No," said Harry, his voice still controlled, and he exerted his will to vanish the hood and the bonds. Nothing happened, he tried again, and suddenly he was in a full scale panic, fighting, struggling to get away. The sharpened ropes bit fiercely into his wrists, and quite quickly there was blood. It was doubtful if Harry even noticed the pain of torn wrists, as his frenzy continued.

Nerrissa watched in fascination, her lips parted, and moistened with her tongue. This was better than she could have imagined.

Mistress Annie was very worried, knowing now that there were currents here that she hadn't been aware of. She always used soft leather straps, but now this man appeared to be in the process of scarring himself for life. But Mistress Annie was a Squib. She backed off, turned and left the building. She'd check in a few hours to see if they'd gone.

Julie had stepped back, watching in consternation. It had finally dawned on her that her husband wasn't enjoying this. She turned to Cissy and said urgently, "Let him go, he doesn't like it."

Cissy was in a dreamlike state of no cares. She was under the Imperius Curse. And while Harry still furiously fought his bonds, she came to Julie, slipped an arm around her, and took her wand.

Julie spun around furiously, "What do you think you're doing!" she screamed. "Let him go!"

Cissy ignored her, and, as instructed by the small voice inside her head, merely stepped back behind the barrier.

Harry dropped his head, panting. He was being silly, and knew that he was being silly. But he couldn't stand being tied, and was filled with the panic of not being free.

He opened his mind, searching. He had been tied by Cissy, it was like a signature on the spell, and on the hood, too. He was now naked and tied, and he could hear through the ear covers as Julie screamed at Cissy to free him. He exerted his magic against the wall, and felt almost instantly that Cissy was before him. But why would she do it? Cissy was sensible.

Harry concentrated. Cissy was there, he could feel her, barely. But there was a barrier, and he knew as clearly as if he was not blindfolded that it was one that she had conjured, and he would not be able to use magic through it. So he used his voice.

"Cissy," he said, and he said what had to be right. "They've got you under the Imperius Curse. You have to resist! Work at it! Use your own mind." His voice suddenly went to almost a sob of pleading, "Try! You've got to try!" and for a moment, he jerked savagely at his bonds again, injuring his wrists further before getting himself under control.

They must have forgotten something. "Julie, get Cissy out from behind the barrier. Drag her, quickly."

But someone was watching and listening, and Cissy raised her wand, threatening Julie.

Harry concentrated. He had tried it before, and it hadn't worked, but now a tingling filled the air, as he tried again to vanish the ropes.

There was something else, and for a moment, Harry felt Cissy, and tried to talk to her telepathically. If he could feel her mind, maybe he could break the Imperius Spell, or, alternatively, feel his way to the man who controlled her, and kill him!

But Cissy was quick, and now there was a barrier right across the room, separating him from Julie as well as Cissy.

Two masked men entered the room, and they were laughing at him. Harry heard them, and tried hard to feel them. Maybe he could frighten them, and suddenly thunder was rumbling, and lightning flickered around him. The lightning stopped dead at the barrier. They watched unmoved. It was obvious he couldn't get at them, and the hood over his face made him seem more helpless than he was.

Julie was sobbing, continuously, and when one of the men grabbed her, her sobs only increased in volume. He held her in one strong arm, while his other caressed a breast.

"We're going to have your women, Mister! Both of them, right in front of you. What do you think of that?"

Harry raised his head, hooded or not, and said in a toneless, deadly voice, "My name is Harry Potter. Anyone who hurts Cissy or Julie will die for it."

The men hesitated, worried. But Cissy spoke in a flat voice. "Potter is blindfolded. He's behind a barrier, and can't get to you. Do as you were told!" And, although Harry could not see, she started to unbutton her blouse, taking off her clothes one by one.

Barrier or not, Harry felt the lust rise in the air. Julie started pleading, "Don't! Leave me alone! Harry, you've got to help me!"

Harry was in a renewed frenzy, tearing his wrists against the sharpened ropes, wrenching against them again and again, and suddenly there were magical blows striking harder and harder against the barrier, and the ceiling was cracking, as if it might fall on them, but he couldn't do that without hurting Cissy and Julie.

Again, Harry had to battle against his own panic, and his overwhelming fury. There was only one avenue left that he could think of, and it always took a little time, and the last time he'd done it, it had nearly killed him. He called up his strong magic, standing now calm in the centre of a hurricane that didn't move.

Three rooms away, Nerrissa asked, frightened, "What's he doing?"

Kryall shook his head.

The men's lust died, as even through the barrier, they sensed his power. When a rip appeared in the barrier, their fear took over, and they turned and fled.

The barrier vanished, and Harry extended his mind, finding more barriers not far away, and they, too, were vanished. He held his power, filling the air with a something that was scarcely discernible by the usual senses, and yet impossible to miss. The feeling was frightening.

Still under orders, Cissy tried to stun him, but the spell didn't connect, and Harry exerted his will, and now the Imperius Curse broke.

In the other room, Nerrissa reeled back, holding her head, "We've got to disapparate, now!" she panted, and Nerrissa and Kryall disapparated.

Harry found no more enemies, but he kept his magic at the same high level, as his mind felt his surroundings, and suddenly the hood vanished, and he could see with his eyes rather than just with his mind.

It was only when he finally managed to vanish the ropes that had held him that his magic gradually died from the air, leaving him exhausted.

Julie and Cissy had backed off, frightened of the power that thrummed in the air, but now they both ran to him, sobbing. He had won, but he was tired, and now he had two half hysterical girls to look after. He looked around, and two cameras fell into small pieces, their film destroyed.

Harry and Cissy were both without clothes, and Julie's clothing was hanging from her where it had been torn by the man intent on rape. But they were all traumatised, and no-one was worrying about trivialities.

Harry held a sobbing girl in each arm. He was shaking himself, in reaction. He had been tied, and hadn't been able to get away. But this was no good. They needed to get home.

"Cissy," he said commandingly. "I can only take one passenger. Can you apparate?"

Cissy took a grip of herself, and stood away from him, nodding.

"Home, then."

A moment later, Cissy appeared in the small apparation zone in Harry's home, and Harry and Julie appeared in the loungeroom. Julie still clung to him, still sobbing. He took her to the couch, sat, and just cradled her. He was still shaking.

Cissy appeared, but Cissy was tough. "Happy Anniversary, Harry," she said, and Harry gave a short laugh.

He continued to hold Julie close as she sobbed in reaction, never giving a thought to his injured wrists, although the blood stained the furniture. Cissy was stronger, and managed to look after herself, dressing, and even organising hot chocolate for them all, bringing them in herself, as Harry was still stark naked.

She wasn't entirely herself, though. She was a mediwizard, and never noticed that Harry's wrists needed urgent treatment if he was not to be scarred.

"We keep it quiet," said Harry firmly as they drank their warming, comforting drinks. "Tell no-one."

The girls nodded. No-one.

Harry took Julie to bed afterward, and held her close throughout the night, as she slept, woke with a start, and slept again, fitfully.

Harry scarcely slept. He was running the events through his mind. He had been so stupid, panicking in his own stupid fear, instead of thinking through the problem. In the cool aftermath, he came up with other strategies he could have used to free himself. He hadn't really had to call up the strong magic. But there was one thing that seemed definite. Strong magic was no longer dangerous to him. Maybe he could use it again when he did his cures, instead of the telepathic cure that he disliked.

They discussed it further on Sunday, sitting around in the loungeroom, no-one else present. Harry had an elderly cat on his knee. The cat's half tail twitched as he dreamt about that annoying black dog that strolled around his house. He'd punish it one day...

Harry, Cissy and Julie confirmed their decision to keep it strictly secret. It was not only Harry who felt a fool. The girls did, too. Cissy had allowed herself to be put under the Imperius Curse, and when she heard Harry tell her to fight it, she had thought, Why bother? - she felt so good. And Julie had done a very stupid thing, even if Harry did say that he suspected that she had been magically influenced.

They worked out that it was almost certainly Nerrissa Malfoy who was responsible, but were undecided what to do about it. Harry said that he wasn't about to kill a woman, and complaining to the Ministry would severely embarrass them all. That he'd had enough public humiliation for a lifetime.

He'd smeared some anti-bruising lotion on his wrists, and Julie had wrapped bandages around them. Cissy left. If they wanted to keep the incident quiet, they would have to go to work as usual on Monday.

Harry was due to go to Italy. He arrived at the Ministry a little early, leaving his luggage in the usual place, but himself going to Catherine's office. He was pleased to find her already there. He greeted her, and then stood looking out the window as she frowned at him, wondering why he was there.

"Well?" she finally said, getting impatient as he dithered.

Harry was looking awkward. "It's nothing to do with the Ministry, just a small injury. Can you keep it quiet?"

Catherine nodded decisively, "If it's nothing to do with the Ministry, I'll keep it quiet."

Harry held out a bandaged wrist. Rather red, he said, "I don't want any more scars, and especially not these."

"Show me!" she ordered, and he touched the bandage, vanishing it, showing a deep ring of rawness encircling the wrist.

"The other one, too," he said, going even more red.

"Someone had you tied?" Catherine asked, and Harry nodded.

"When?"

"Saturday night."

To his relief, Catherine asked no further questions, but searched her shelves for what she wanted.

"You've left it way too late, and it may scar anyway, but I'll do my best. You'll have to be treated night and morning, and you'll have to wear bandages, and no swimming."

"Thanks, Catherine," he said with relief, and when she finished, there were neat bandages again on his wrists.

He drew his wand, changed the colour to more closely match his skin colour, and touched his sleeves, so that they became a little too long. He put a charm on the bandages, too, so that people were less likely to notice them. It was too obvious an indicator that he'd been tied up.

They were barely finished when Anthony knocked briefly, and entered. "You're here!" he said to Harry. "We were wondering if you were coming."

Harry rose, took his cane, and thanked Catherine again.

"What was that all about?" said Anthony, and Catherine smiled as Harry said casually that they were talking about a recent article in the Quibbler about the Xinistrium.

Catherine was packing extra bandages and the lotion in her bag. The lotion was not one she normally took with her, but was quite good at preventing scarring. She wished that Harry hadn't left it so long, as she suspected that there would be scars anyway, and white rings encircling wrists told a story. She wondered what had happened, but Harry was obviously bent on keeping it as quiet as possible, and she wouldn't betray his confidence.

She was pleased that he'd come to her. She knew that Harry had not always trusted Ministry healers, and for good reason. She'd even heard that one had tried to have him committed once.

Harry managed to keep his bandaged wrists out of notice for days, until a patient took a swing at him on Wednesday, and he blocked it with his arm. The bandage was suddenly obvious as his sleeve fell back, and he grunted with pain as the blow connected on the sore area.

The patient was quickly subdued, but Tracy was watching closely as he wiped sweat from his brow. There were bandages that she hadn't noticed before, and that blow had obviously hurt. And then both she and the patient were sent out of the room as Catherine tended to him.

"I'm going to use the strong magic on that wizard," said Harry to her, as she rebandaged the sore wrist. It was bleeding again - they'd been deep wounds. "I reckon I can do it again, but maybe we'll just put him back to the end of the day, in case."

Catherine argued with him. She didn't want him in agony again, and she very well remembered the monitor showing the characteristic consistent decline in LV levels of a dying person. Harry insisted that he thought it would be all right, and it occurred to Catherine that maybe he'd already used it, probably at the same time as someone had been rash enough to tie him. She hoped he hadn't done anything too drastic to that person.

Outside, Tracy was reporting to Anthony - that Harry had bandages around his right wrist, and she rather suspected his other wrist besides. Anthony said that if Catherine knew about it, he guessed that it was private business, and no business of the aurors. The training manual had stressed that Harry Potter's business was not private, but Tracey said nothing more.

Anthony looked at Harry's wrists at the next break. A 'Don't Notice Me' Charm doesn't work once a person's attention has been attracted. But there were more pressing concerns. Harry quite casually stated that he was going to make an attempt to use the strong magic. Anthony had not been on the team last time Harry had used it, and collapsed in agony, but he'd heard about it. They'd even had to call in Healer Granger.

The time came. Harry made no comment when he saw that Anthony was planning to stay with them, merely explaining to the patient and to Tracy what they might feel, and emphasising that he should not be interrupted. His patient felt guilty that he had hit him just because of an alien feeling in his head, and was grateful that Harry was going to make a new attempt, not knowing that he hadn't tried to do the job this way for years.

Harry arranged the room a little this time, asking Tracy to go to the side of the room, although not worrying about Anthony behind him. The magic seemed to be already there, available, just waiting to be called up, and he felt within himself that there were immense reserves available to him that surely he would never need.

All the same, he went slowly and carefully, as Catherine watched closely, dividing her attention between the monitor on her desk, and Harry. She had wanted him to use the wrist-band sensor, but they'd had to tape it to a different part of his arm. It still seemed to work all right. Of the aurors there, only Anthony knew what the red book was all about, and he said nothing.

The magic rose, Harry controlled it easily, stayed aware of both Tracy, who hadn't seen it before, and the patient.

To Catherine and Anthony, who had felt it before, it was as if there was even more power behind it than there had been - a deeper thrumming in the air. But it hadn't felt as if it was hurting their heads as it often did in the past.

Tracy had just stared in disbelief as the feeling in the air intensified, slowly and gradually, until the patient abruptly started to look more like a normal man, and then the magic had died down.

To Harry, it seemed like he didn't have to work too hard, the feeling in the air didn't become intense, and the patient was cured. Catherine, watching the monitor, was surprised to see how little it drained his energy.

Harry felt as if it was not yet a test, and wanted a half dozen more. But they were never available on demand, and Harry had hardly ever found another use for the strong magic, which he thought he should find a better name for. Maybe he should just make up a name.

A report went back, and Jebedee read it and smiled in pleasure. Harry must be so pleased with himself. The report didn't go into the file. Jebedee kept that file locked away in his own office, now, and seldom added to it.

**x**

Harry _was_ pleased with himself when he returned to Julie that night, but she was silent and unhappy. As on the previous nights, she held him close, and wanted his care and tenderness as well as his lovemaking. He held her, therefore, as close and as long as she wanted. He asked her if she wanted him to stop going away. But no, it seemed that she didn't want that. He was to keep going away, but he was to come back every night. There would be the Christmas break soon.

Julie had been profoundly upset by the incident in Mistress Annie's Dungeon, and Harry was also affected. He had been tied, and had been unable to get away. His nightmares were more frequent, but after the first few nights, Julie found that she was again able to cut them short. Harry's terror of confinement dated back to his teens - this latest episode made little difference to him.

That weekend, he went to see Draco Malfoy. Nerrissa had attacked them the previous week, and he didn't quite know what to do about it. He'd almost decided to say nothing at all to Draco, and they only discussed mutual acquaintances. But too often when they spoke of their peers, the talk was of illness and funerals. Harry was beginning to think that he'd like to sink out of sight for a decade or so. He thought it would be easier to age and die himself, than to stay in good health, and watch all his contemporaries age and die.

Even Draco was looking ill, although last time Harry had seen him he'd been fine - an old man, but standing straight, and still with his finger on the pulse of wizardry as it had always been.

A maid brought in an afternoon tea. There were some muffins, too, which Draco regarded with pleasure.

"My favourites," he said, "Try some."

Harry accepted one, started to take a bite, then coughed it out, and regarded it with suspicion, before cautiously touching his tongue to it again.

Draco had already half finished his own.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "Don't like them?"

"It's poisoned," Harry said in a matter-of-fact tone. He took another, and again gently touched a tongue to it. "So's that," and he put it down.

Draco put down his own.

"Unless someone knows I'm here, it must be you who's the target," Harry pointed out.

"No-one knows you're here," said Draco. As was his usual habit, Harry had arrived unannounced. "How do you know they're poisoned? They taste good."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know how I know, but I always have."

Draco was looking sadly at the muffins. "My grand-daughter makes them especially for me," he said.

"I think it might be a slow-acting poison, but from now on, I'd take a great deal of care if I were you. Maybe she wants to take over the mansion - not wait till you die naturally."

Draco was apparently not a great deal perturbed, and only shrugged and said that he'd take care of it.

He hadn't commented on the bandages that still decorated Harry's wrists, although Harry had wondered if he would. Draco often seemed to see things that others missed. But the camouflage colour, long sleeves and charms had apparently worked, and Harry chose not to say anything about Nerrissa's attack. Maybe Draco would sort her out.

He used his strong magic a couple of times in the next few weeks, it still felt good to him, and it still felt like less effort than it had been formerly. It seemed to him as if he had become more powerful, or maybe had easier access to his power than he'd had before. Something was different.

His wrists were finally almost better, although quite deeply marked. Catherine said that would fade, but that she thought he'd be left with permanent scarring, especially on the right wrist, where the wound had been reopened.

The aurors had all seen it now, though none of them spoke of it to him, even when he discarded the bandages to reveal perfectly obvious red marks. He couldn't even disguise the marks with make-up, as it quickly rubbed off on his sleeves, and there was some residual tenderness, so that it was uncomfortable to wear a watch. There had been worse embarrassments, and he was only grateful that no-one was apparently going to comment.

Harry spoke about his magic with Hermione, and one day, a few weeks later, with Hermione available as a precaution, he made an experiment. He'd only once tried to use the strong magic without a focus when he'd tried to control a nervous attack with it. That had been worse than a failure, resulting in some very severe fitting.

Hermione closely watched the monitor as Harry built up the magic. It became very intense. Hermione felt as if her hair must be standing on end, although it wasn't. But then he went to a different room to do it again, more intense still, and away from Hermione whom he might hurt. She watched the monitor as he concentrated. There was little indication of what he was doing. The energy level dipped slightly, and then held steady for a long time before gradually declining. In the other room, Harry was at the centre of a maelstrom, although there was no actual movement of the air. He thought that this intensity of power would have any observers fainting around him, but it was his own, and it never hurt himself.

After a time, he let it die down, returned to Hermione, and checked with her that there had been no indications of any problems, such as the possibility of a fit becoming apparent on the monitor.

But she was smiling at him. "Seems fine," she said, happy for him.

He smiled back. He liked having that power there, and he had even thought that he was not by any means, using all that was available to him. But what use was it really? It was not as if he wanted to shatter the moon!

Hermione left after the experimentation, and Harry took one of his young horses, to race across the moors. If only Julie had been happier, he thought that there'd be nothing left to wish for. But Julie had not been able to throw off the upset caused by the episode in Mistress Annie's Dungeon, and only became quieter, and more reserved.

On her request, they were to go to her sister in America for a few days for Christmas, Julie first, and Harry to follow when he finished the last week's work. She gave Harry the Apparation Coordinates, but he asked for the address as well. He'd never admitted to Julie that he couldn't apparate to coordinates, she so hated mention of his remaining disabilities.

***chapter end***


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter & his world belong to J. K. Rowling.___

_Rated M for mature readers. Sexual content in this chapter. _

_Chapter 11:_

Three days after Julie left, Harry joined her. Julie's sister lived in a rich home, surrounded by green countryside, dotted with the high white fences of surrounding properties, all of whom seemed to be involved in horse-breeding.

Julie welcomed him, and as soon as they decently could, they went to their room to make love. Three days felt like a deprivation to both of them.

Julie was happier, although Harry disliked the continual round of parties and festivities that both she and her sister enjoyed. Lynn and Jake loved showing off their famous house guest, and had boasted for years of the connection. But Harry very much disliked being shown off. He said nothing. Whatever Julie wanted...

At one big function, he met again the American Minister of Magic that Percy Weasley had so fawned upon a few years before. The big man bluffly referred to their annual visit, and asked whether it would be in February as usual. Harry said vaguely that he supposed so, he never involved himself with the planning.

At the beginning of January, Harry sent a note to the Department of International Cooperation, and Sarah, the Coordinator, to hold off on the trips for a bit. Julie didn't seem able to make up her mind when they would return, but it was Harry Potter whom Sandra Darke abused to herself. It would be a lot easier if he'd just do as he was told.

The tenth of January, and Harry was sure that they would soon wear out their welcome, although the house was big, and servants did the work. But still Julie didn't want to go home.

"I want to go walking," she told him in the morning. "Just you and me."

Harry was thinking that it would have been a good place to ride horses, but hardly any wizards and witches rode horses. Instead they walked along the gravelled road, Harry going easily at Julie's pace. He still carried his cane, as he was easily knocked off balance, but rarely used it. He knew she was sad, knew that she had been thinking deeply, but was taken totally off guard when she said that she wanted him to go home, but that she would stay a while... He stopped, turning to face her. She wouldn't look at him. He repeated what she'd said, in different words, "You don't want me around any more?"

She looked at him, then, and her eyes were shining with tears, "I'm not strong enough; it's too much for me."

"Julie," he said, wanting her, opening his arms to her, and she went to him, sobbing. But she didn't change her mind.

"Only for a time, and you're to go with other women if you want," although the idea of him going with other women tore her heart.

For the first time in their life together, he argued with her, pleaded with her, but Julie was adamant.

"Only for a time," she said, and again she said that he was to go with other women. She knew now that his health could suffer if he didn't have the physical and mental outlets he needed. Harry Potter was not a normal man, and although she had tried to deny it for years, she had recently seen both his great power, and his vulnerability. He was the most powerful wizard in the world, and he could break down in panic, the same as anyone else. He could so easily get sick, too. It had been a shock to her when she had found that Hermione had stunned him in order to prevent a fit. And then they hadn't allowed her close...

Harry had few secrets from the aurors that surrounded him, even routinely on guard outside his door at night. It could not be concealed that he was living apart from his wife, but, like the scarred wrists, they did not refer to it.

Every day, without fail, he sent her letters. He didn't plead with her, but spoke of the things at home that he thought might make her want to return. The new litter of kittens, three of them tabby, and one ginger, the two grey ponies he'd bought for Chris's boys, who wanted to be involved in Pony Club, that Lady was well and healthy, and carrying her foal without trouble, that the pinto stallion next door was in trouble again, finding his way to a mare all the way on the other side of town.

Harry wanted her to be homesick. He wanted her to come back to him.

But she only sent a letter every week, that told him nothing except the day to day, minor events of her life with Lynn and Jake. Every time he asked, she firmly said that he was not to visit.

Harry did the three weeks in America as was usual in February, and the aurors found him restless, short-tempered, and hard to get on with. They attempted to give him the heavy protection that they thought he needed there, but he was impatient with their presence, and seldom stayed with them.

After the first week, Harry started to visit a brothel every few days. But even when he felt that he needed it, it was not the pleasure that it had been in the past. He wanted Julie, he didn't want anyone else.

They'd given him Franz to be in charge in America, and Franz had never known Harry like this. He'd thought he'd had a hard time with him before! After the first few times that Harry came home bruised and battered after a fight, there were location devices on his glasses and on his shoes.

Harry noticed, and left them there. He knew he was being stupid, knew that he could easily find himself in real trouble, and a rescue could be needed. But it seemed he couldn't help himself. He wanted to hit, and only needed a fool to give him an excuse. There were plenty of would-be muggers in America to give him that excuse. It was only when he put two knife wielding gang members in hospital that he desisted.

On the last day in America, he abandoned pride, and his letter to Julie was a desperate plea. Three days later, her reply barely mentioned his letter, only saying that he should be patient with her. There was no-one else in the private part of the house, but he still put a silencing shield around his room as he cried.

He resumed his more sensible strategy. Quite deliberately, he tried to make her homesick, and his frequent letters again spoke of the daily affairs of home. Old John had died, but his widow stayed on in the little house they'd lived in so long. She made fresh scones whenever he visited. Bill was getting very old, but Chris was an excellent manager, and took advice from Bill whenever needed. Tracy had gone around the cats again, with her contraception spell. Harry thought it didn't make much difference. There always seemed to be kittens around.

That week he wasn't working, and he thought of visiting Beth and Jeremiah, in their sunny home. But Beth knew too much, and he visited Inge and Helmer instead. Britta, too, although he didn't go to bed with her.

When he returned, there was something new. A pinto stallion grazed peacefully in a large paddock that now had very high fences. With him were three mares, beginning to be heavy in foal. Kintu was in the next paddock, with her big foal and her yearling. Jimmy told him that the little horse had been threatened with a fate as dog meat, and that he knew the boss wouldn't like that.

Harry thanked him, and entered the paddock.

"Be careful, remember it's a stallion!" said Jimmy, warningly, but Harry waved to him casually. Unfortunately the effect was spoiled when he tripped on a tuft of grass, could not save himself, and wound up flat on his face.

Five minutes later, though, Harry was caressing the little horse, who was nuzzling him in return. He even hopped into his back, although the stallion had never been ridden.

The stallion threw up its head, waited until he thought he was off guard, and gave an enormous buck. But Harry just laughed, and when he slipped off, hugged him around the neck. He liked that horse. Jimmy Carr wanted to know about gelding him, but Harry said, no, let's give him another season. He still fancied the idea of foals from that clever little horse.

The next week, Switzerland. Jebedee would probably have tried to give Harry experienced aurors whom he knew and liked, especially now. But Jebedee was on leave, and Harry found himself with three young aurors whom he scarcely knew, Peter, Ivan and Ken. Brad was in charge, and he'd seldom worked with Brad, either, although he'd been around for years.

If Harry had his way, he would have the same aurors again and again. He felt more comfortable that way. Brad had originally been recruited from America, a tall man, with light brown hair and dashing good looks. Ivan was dark, of average height, and Peter and Ken were very much typical aurors, big, strong and athletic.

It was a bad time to be in Switzerland, while snow still lay around. But their request had been urgent. There was a new young wizard, apparently keen on duelling. His spells were very hard to break. Apprehensive, Harry asked Heinz, the Swiss Coordinator, the name of his mother, and relaxed. He'd never known a woman of that name, and he was told it was an ancient family of wizards. The mother was not a muggle.

Heinz was amused. It was obvious why Harry Potter asked that question. The parentage of Helmer was well known, and it was also assumed that Harry was the father of Cissy, who was also known to be very powerful. They wondered why he didn't just admit to it as he had to Helmer, rather than referring to her vaguely as a relative.

Monday afternoon, he started on the victims of the wizard that Heinz had spoken of. Harry felt for the spell the first time before doing anything. But it was nothing special, and he didn't even need that touch of extra effort he sometimes used.

He worked quickly through the remaining rostered patients. There were fewer than normal, and he was finished early. And then he stood, looking out at the mountains, leaning against the wall. He didn't really know what he wanted to do.

"Back to the hotel?" prompted Peter, who was shivering.

"Yeah, I suppose," said Harry, and turned, but walking slowly. The light snow was slippery, and Harry concentrated, before suddenly losing patience, and telling Peter that he was going to apparate, and maybe wouldn't be back for some hours. He hadn't even decided where he wanted to go, only knew that he didn't like this place, where he found it so hard to walk.

Harry wasn't back until the following morning. Brad was annoyed and anxious. This was his first time as team leader, and he wanted to do a good job, but Harry wasn't making it easy for him. He was impatient and irritable, although every now and then he'd realise that he was being difficult, and apologise.

All the aurors had a gripe about Harry that week. Catherine said that they had to be patient, that he was having a difficult time at the moment, that normally he was perfectly easy going. When Catherine wasn't there, one of the aurors suggested that Harry's biggest problem was lack of sex. Yarns were told about his frequent women, but they had seen no sign of anything like that. Even when he vanished, it didn't look to them as if he was any happier when he returned.

Staying at the hotel was a young witch by the name of Tessa. She was there because of Harry Potter. There were often girls like this, wherever Harry was. He was so famous, so powerful, and _Witch Weekly_ sometimes featured photographs that showed a very desirable body. Occasionally, there were interviews with women who claimed that they'd been to bed with him, and who would rave about his prowess, and his endurance.

Tessa had never had a man. She was rather silly, quite vain about her looks, and wanted Harry Potter to be the one to take her virginity. They used to giggle about it at Hogwarts, where she'd been a student just the previous year. He was even rumoured to be especially well endowed, a thought which Tessa found very exciting, though scarcely knowing what it meant. She came from a family that kept such things very quiet. For her time and age, Tessa was still quite ignorant. But she knew that they should be naked, and that they should be in bed together.

Of all the girls in her dormitory who used to talk about him, only Tess had pursued him this far. If she got what she wanted, she didn't even plan to use any spells, either to promote or to prevent conception. That was to be left with the gods. The spells were part of basic witch education, although the rest was not. But Harry Potter didn't appear even to notice her.

It was not hard to get information about his schedule, although it was supposed to be confidential, and she was already booked in at the hotel in Spain for the next week.

The next Monday, she watched him at a different hotel, in Spain. He was at a table, drinking with three other men, his bodyguards, Tessa knew. He wasn't taking part in the conversation, staring instead at the window, with a lost and lonely expression on his face.

Harry didn't know what to do with himself. He hadn't even been to a brothel for a week, and was beginning to feel more of the physical deprivation of being without sex. But it was Julie he yearned for. It was not as if she was dead, and he still hadn't been with any woman aside from the ones he paid. It was as if it was not as bad if it was only Candy or Lulu.

That night, Tessa watched as Harry went to his room for the night. She waited. Ivan took up his position in his chair outside the door. Tessa waited. An hour passed. Tessa finally acted. Quiet words with Ivan. She knew Harry, she knew that he would want her to come to him. Ivan wasn't sure that he believed her, but was persuaded anyway, only saying that she must hand over her wand before he let her in.

In his bed, Harry had thrust away the blankets, although it was not a specially warm night. He was wearing sleeping shorts, as he usually did when he slept alone. A gentle light came from the wide open window, protected only by a shield spell to prevent uninvited entry.

Tessa was breathing fast with excitement. She was a little frightened, but determined, and slipped off the single garment she wore. She came closer, panting a little, but with fear, not sexual excitement. And still she did not change her mind. Harry was dreaming as he lay on his back - he was thrusting into the woman and she was holding his pelvis to her, closer and closer.

Tessa climbed softly into the bed, lay her hand on the half erection clearly visible under the silk of the shorts, and breathed in his ear, "Take me, I'm yours."

Harry turned to her, his strong thighs pushed apart her legs, sleeping shorts were instantly vanished, and he took her with a powerful thrust that had her crying out loudly in pain. Three more hard thrusts, and he was already spurting into her, in his climax. He fully awoke to find himself still inside a sobbing girl whom he didn't remember seeing before in his life.

"Who're you?" he asked, not knowing exactly what had happened.

Outside, Ivan had been listening, telling himself he just needed to know that Harry was not being attacked. He heard the girl's cry, and thought that she had what she'd asked for, and incredibly quick. But when Harry asked who she was, and he heard her distressed crying, he began to wonder whether he'd done the right thing. But Harry needed sex, and this girl was offering it. Maybe he'd be easier to get on with afterward.

The girl was gulping, "I'm Tessa - you hurt me dreadfully!"

"I'm terribly sorry," said Harry, "But what are you doing in my bed?"

"Get off me," sobbed Tessa. "It's still _inside _me, I don't _like_ it!"

"Shhhh," Harry soothed. "It's all right, I promise I won't hurt you again." And again he apologised, "I'm terribly sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

But he didn't get off her, and his penis was still deep inside the girl, no longer hard, but the tightness of her vagina kept it from shrinking.

"You said, Take me, I'm yours. Or did I dream that?"

Tessa sobbed harder than ever. Ivan was still listening, feeling guilty now, and unable to bring himself to remove the eavesdropping device.

Harry looked up, and a silencing shield clamped down on the room. He kissed her gently, tenderly. "You wanted me, and didn't know what it was all about, is that it?" He was feeling very guilty. He had never taken a woman like that, and he was beginning to realise that this was only a silly girl.

He kissed her again, and now he was gently moving his pelvis. She told him again to get off, that she didn't like it.

Harry was convinced that she would be very reluctant to ever have sex again, with such a rough beginning. He remembered a cry of pain. She'd been a virgin, he thought, and he'd taken her so fast, and he tried to soothe her, as he continued to move his pelvis, kissing her, gentling her, promising that she would not be hurt again.

His penis became hard again, inside her, but he was only moving gently, and torn and bruised tissues had become numb. He was no longer hurting her, and after a while, she began to feel an excitement.

He took his time, and when he finally sped up, thrusting harder and climaxing, she too found some pleasure. It was only then that he remembered to work the spell that vanished semen, and drastically reduced the likelihood of pregnancy.

He withdrew and held her close, as she started to cry again. This was not what she'd imagined. And she hurt! It had been such a sudden invasion. And how could it have been as big as she thought she'd felt? Penises were little, soft things. She'd never even wondered how a soft penis could enter a body. She'd thought that the organs must just rub up against each other or something. She knew different now, and she felt pain still deep inside. Is that what it meant for a man to be 'well endowed?' She thought she could do without it. But his arm was around her, and she was very sleepy.

Harry held her through the night. It felt like forever since he'd slept with a woman. In the morning, he gently disengaged himself from the sleeping girl, still almost a child, he thought, studying her face in the daylight.

When he came back from his shower, she was up, too, and vanished into the bathroom. Harry was looking at the white sheet. There was blood, surely more blood than there should have been. Harry had so rarely been with a virgin. There was Julie, and there had been a few others over the years, but always those ones well into their twenties or even thirties, that other men had taken no interest in for some reason. He had never hurt a girl like he had hurt little Tessa.

Tessa came back as he took out his wand, and she, too, looked at the evidence of lost virginity. Harry touched his wand to the sheet, and it was clean.

He turned to her. It was not just his own desire - he thought that she had to do it again, the way it should be done. Otherwise fears might again take over. She was reluctant, frightened. But he kissed her, soothed her, promised her that she would not be hurt. And eventually he persuaded her to lie down next to him as he caressed her pretty breasts, and kissed her lips, rousing the passion that was still scarcely known to her. He was next to her, but he kept his erection concealed, out of her sight. He thought that she could still be so easily frightened off, and he was not a small man.

Outside there was a sign on his door, 'Do not disturb,' and the silencing shield was still in place. He wasn't worrying about being late for work. It took as long as it took.

At last he thought it was time, and he put his knee between her legs, gently pushing apart the thighs. And suddenly she was frightened again, and tried to push him off. Again he soothed her, not forcing the issue, but murmuring that if he let her go now, she might always be frightened, that sex was a good thing, a wonderful thing, that it was all his fault, that he'd been so rough, that it would never hurt again like that.

He was between her legs, the narrow tip of his penis close to her vagina, but not yet inside, and he kissed her closely, passionately, and suddenly she forgot her fears, her pelvis tilted up to him, and he gently inserted the tip of his penis, only pushing in a little, not hurting her. Gently, gently, he made the motions of sex, restraining himself, only using the first couple of inches of his penis, the narrow part, easy for a young girl to take.

After a time, she was pushing herself up to him, caught up in the ancient rhythm of the game of life. Only then did he push himself further into her, still gentle, careful, still not giving all he had. It was enough, and this time when she gave a cry, it was one of fulfilment, and he joined her, pushing just a touch harder right at the last, and he too, gave a cry of fulfilment.

They showered again, together, and he asked her to please come back, to join him for dinner. He was afraid that she might not come back, that she'd remember that she'd been hurt, remember how much blood there'd been. Remember how rough he'd been. It was almost a rape that first time, and the second time, too, when he had not withdrawn when she had whimpered to him to get off her. And yet he thought that after hurting her the first time, he'd had no choice. He had done damage, and he had to repair the damage as best he could..

They dressed, and left the room, Ivan was still on guard, and gave her back her wand. He watched as Harry tenderly kissed her, and she walked off down the corridor. Ivan thought he'd done all right, and said to him, "Good, was she?"

Harry turned to him and said furiously, and with considerable emphasis. "Don't _ever_ do that to me again!"

He was a bit late for work, but swiftly caught up, and he hadn't even been aware that he'd started to be in danger of a nervous attack in the last few days.

He looked for her that afternoon after work, but didn't find her until he went for a swim in the indoor hotel swimming pool. She was there, laughing with Ivan who was off duty, as if she didn't have a care in the world. Harry watched her, smiling. Maybe he hadn't done so much damage after all.

She joined him for dinner at a nearby restaurant, and to a show afterward. Harry tolerated the bodyguards who kept a discreet watch. He had started to feel as if he might be being watched, more than just by the aurors, and yet had no sense of any danger.

That night, it was Tessa who took the lead, turning to him as soon as they shut the door of his bedroom, and kissing him with the passion she was only just discovering. And still he was cautious, and gave her no chance to see how big a full male erection was.

Again there was a sudden fearful withdrawal when he parted her legs, and she needed to be soothed, and petted back into receptivity. It took less time this time before her pelvis tilted up to him, and there was a joyous reciprocal thrusting up to him.

Afterward, Tessa lay awake. Her hand moved gently over her own abdomen, pressing down just below her naval. Surely that first time he had been in so much deeper than he had done since. And now she was becoming really curious, and looked at him more closely. His penis was soft. It wasn't so big. How could it have hurt her so much? The window was wide open, and there was a bright street light outside. She could see quite clearly.

In the early hours of the morning, her curiosity was finally satisfied. She had turned on her side, away from him, and she felt him cuddle closer, and a bit later, although he was breathing deeply and evenly, she felt the now hard penis prodding into the back of her thighs. Gently, she slid away from him, whispered _Lumos_ to her wand, and inspected a large male erection. She was frightened, and she was wanting.

Unable to resist, she reached out and touched. But even this time, when they made love, he was tender and gentle, and she knew that he had not pushed the whole length into her. She wanted it, and was still frightened, and still felt bruised sometimes if he thrust deeper than usual.

It was not until Thursday morning, that he abandoned gentle restraint in response to her urgent cries of wanting, and thrust into her body as vigorously as she needed. Her climax was unexpectedly violent, and he thought a smaller man might have been pushed straight out. But afterwards, she went to sleep with a smile of absolute contentment on her face.

He took off the silencing shield, and left her there, the 'Do not disturb sign' still in place.

He was a little late for work again, and Brad found him in the sitting room that had been allotted to the group, finishing a letter to Julie, using his transcriber. It was only his ordinary letter, a description of his surroundings, a mention of an unusual spell that he'd seen, and little else. He always signed it by hand, and he added something else in his half legible handwriting, that he loved her and wanted desperately for her to come back. His face was again very sad as he sealed the letter.

They left the hotel, and Harry paused on the doorway, and searched the surroundings, although not feeling any specific threat. He was frowning as Brad turned to him, wondering what the delay was. Harry was trembling suddenly, but he did that now and then, and only used his cane to keep his balance until it passed, which it generally did quite quickly.

"You OK?" asked Brad, moving closer to Harry's left hand side.

It was actually in the training manual that he'd seen when he first came to England from America, that when Harry fell, it was always to the left. But Jebedee had ordered the training manual to be no longer used. His friend was a man, not an assignment. It was still read, surreptitiously, and the films of his captivity and the subsequent killing of his captors, were still shared around by the trainees.

"Keep a good watch out, today, would you? And I'd prefer only one auror with me, so that there can be another outside, if you don't mind," said Harry.

Brad was in charge of the aurors, Harry could only make suggestions.

Brad asked, "Is there any reason?"

"No reason, especially. I'd just be happier if I knew everyone was a little bit extra alert."

"Will I say anything to the Spanish aurors?" asked Brad.

"It wouldn't hurt, though I don't think much of the Spanish. They always seem to be half asleep."

Brad was wondering how much notice should be taken of Harry. There were stories, certainly, and he suddenly remembered the marks around his wrists that were still quite obvious. Harry Potter lived a dangerous life. He spread the word, no particular known threat, but be especially alert.

It was the last day of work, and supposed to be a short day. But there had been extra patients added, and it seemed there had been some digging done. In the afternoon, there were to be some ancient cases from institutions, and when that was mentioned, Harry was again very pleased that he could use his strong magic, even if it did make him tired sometimes.

Tessa was to meet him after work, for their last night together in Spain. She had made hints of future meetings, but he had no strong feeling of attachment to Tessa. If he'd woken in time, or entered his room to find her there, she would have been thrown out very quickly, and not at all politely. It was only his feeling of guilt that had him asking her to come back, and, of course, he had become fond of her. It was impossible for Harry to go to bed with a woman and not become fond of her.

Tessa joined them at morning tea, and asked him again if she could watch. Harry made the same excuse that he had used before, that Brad was in charge, and that Brad said he wasn't allowed to have guests as he worked. Brad raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything, and only offered her another piece of overly fancy cake.

Harry was again searching his surroundings, looking a lot more carefully than usual. Still he didn't pick up anything out of the norm. Still he had no real sense of danger. It was the same at lunch. He felt just a touch uneasy, but couldn't put his finger on it.

But when the old cases were brought in after lunch, he thought it was explained. They were all old people, four women, two men. He thought he knew, but asked anyway, and one of the women confirmed what he had suspected. It was Lord Voldemort who had cursed them, as a punishment to their parents for defying him. Lord Voldemort was long dead, killed by Harry when he was just seventeen. But he had been a very powerful and evil wizard, and these old people must have been only small children when he had cursed them.

He soon found that these spells were not easy to break. As well as Voldemort being a very powerful wizard, the spells were so very old. Harry thought it was a good test. Could he do six people running, using the strong magic?

He made the trial. Again and again, the magic filled the air, to the awe of young Peter, who watched. And it seemed he had a new limit, not three but six, but that was definitely the limit.

He was exhausted, and sat afterward, head down, as the old people gathered outside, crying with relief. It felt so good to be normal, something that they had not felt for so very long.

Catherine watched him, and suddenly took out her Nisco monitor and went to him.

"Catherine," he protested. "You're not supposed to fuss, remember!"

But he was trembling, and she only said briskly, "Don't be silly! You've obviously over-tired yourself, and I need to make a check."

She made her checks, finding the energy levels very low indeed, LV normal for him, weight surprisingly down, but no hint of impending fitting. He only sat, leaving her to it. He thought he wouldn't do that again. Probably he could have done some of those people using the telepathic cure. It had been strange to feel Voldemort again, even through ancient spells. They had had such a weird linking of minds for a while.

There was a fuss going on outside, and Harry raised his head, listening to the sounds of distant screams and shouting. The door was open, and he rose, staggering slightly, and using his cane to steady himself.

The Spanish Coordinator was just outside, and a Spanish auror was talking to him. "It's the girlfriend, she's dead!"

Eduardo looked at Harry, and Harry felt a chill, "_My_ girlfriend? Tessa?"

Brad was there, then, looking at Harry.

Harry strode out, his fatigue forgotten, his old forehead scar starting to be more prominent. If it really was Tessa, some-one would pay! It was Tessa. She lay on the ground, robes spread about her, eyes open with a look of fright. Harry leaned down, and touched her cheek. Straightening, he looked around.

"Where is he?"

One of the Spaniards said that he'd disapparated.

"Where?" snapped Harry, and when the auror indicated, he strode over to the spot, felt with all his senses, and silently vanished.

It was no-one he knew. The wizard didn't even know why he was paid to kill the girl. Harry supposed that it was to hurt him. He didn't think that Tessa herself would have dangerous enemies. Tessa met him Monday night, and was dead Thursday afternoon. Harry allowed the wizard who had killed her to draw his wand in front of witnesses, before whipping out his own wand, but killing with the squeeze of the mind that he always used to kill. But the wizard had drawn his wand, and that made it a duelling death. Duelling deaths were never punished.

He looked around, disarmed two other wizards who had drawn their wands, and disapparated again. But his exhaustion had come rushing back, and he did not succeed in apparating into the hotel as he intended. Instead he appeared in the street a few blocks away, staggering and uncertain.

Carefully, he put his wand back into his pocket, wished that he had one of Franz's location devices in his pocket, and sank down onto the pavement, his back to the wall. His head was swimming, and he leaned it back against the wall, and waited. He didn't know where he was. It was in the nature of disapparation that he could be just around the corner, or three hundred miles away.

He had his eyes shut and was trembling again, and when Brad touched him on the shoulder, and said his name, he thought he was dreaming. But he still had location devices planted on him, and Brad and Peter had found him.

They took him back to the hotel before Brad questioned him. Brad was an auror, and he suspected that Harry had killed. At the first insistent questions, Harry had looked at him with a fathomless expression, and Brad wondered if he would lie.

"What did you _do,_ Harry?"

Harry was very tired, and asked if he could talk about it in the morning.

Brad persisted. He was more likely to get truth when the suspect was tired.

"It was a duelling death," Harry finally said. "I let him draw his wand, and only then did I draw mine, and then I killed him."

Brad was silent for a moment, then said, "A bit of a risk wasn't it, letting him draw his wand first?"

Harry said tiredly, "No risk. I'm better than anyone. But he drew his wand first and that makes it a duelling death."

Harry said that he was better than anyone, not boastfully, but as a simple statement of fact, in the same tired voice that admitted to a duelling death.

"How did you know where to go? Whether it was him?"

"It was him. He killed Tessa because he was paid to do it. He didn't even know why."

"Where is this man?" Brad asked.

"No idea," said Harry. "I apparated there, following him, and then I apparated out because there were others there, and I was too tired to keep them under control for long."

The faces of Brad and Peter seemed to be spinning and there was Tessa, too, her face interweaving with the others, and Harry fell forward from his chair.

Catherine was very annoyed that she hadn't been called straight away when they'd brought Harry back. When she did the Niscos again, she found that this time, not only the energy levels were rockbottom, but the LV was down, too. Brad sent an urgent message to Jebedee as there could be international repercussions.

Liaison with the Spanish aurors ascertained the identity of the dead man, questioning of known associates found witnesses, who admitted that the dead man had drawn his wand first, and Harry was off the hook. He had diplomatic immunity in any case, although in all the years of travelling, no-one had been rash enough to tell Harry that.

Harry recovered quickly, waking in a few hours, in spite of everything, very hungry. He was alone in his bedroom, but showered, and dressed himself in fresh clothes, before opening his door. Ivan sat in his usual chair, reading a book. Harry nodded, and Ivan rose, ready to follow him.

"No instructions to arrest me?" Harry asked.

"They said it was all right, that it was a duelling death," said Ivan.

Harry nodded, he hadn't really been worried. "Not very good to know, am I?' said Harry. "She gets into my bed Monday, and is dead on Thursday." His face was very bleak. Ivan said nothing. What could he say?

Jebedee as well as Brad and Ken, were in the sitting room. Catherine was there, too, relieved to see that he appeared fine. She'd checked him just a half hour before, and didn't ask him to submit to any further examination. Like Therese and Jodie before her, she found that he was easier to manage when unconscious.

Harry paused at the entrance, nodding to Jebedee, who asked how he was.

"Hungry," he replied. "I'm just going out to find something to eat - I've obviously missed dinner."

"We'll organise you something," said Jebedee, "Sit down."

Harry sat, as Jebedee asked Ivan to organise some dinner for Harry.

"Are you a target again, Harry?" asked Jebedee. "First you have unexplained rope marks around your wrists, and now a girlfriend is dead."

"I don't think they're after me directly," said Harry. "That's why I didn't feel the danger today - someone just wants to hurt me, not kill me. And poor little Tessa was the weapon."

Jebedee was frowning. "Any idea who?"

"No," said Harry, and Jebedee thought that he lied.

He paused. "Are you going to tell me how you wound up with rope marks around your wrists."

"No," said Harry, and looked up with a grateful smile as Ivan brought in a tray, and Peter took out his wand, and conjured a table.

Harry had used the strong magic six times running, had then apparated to a man he didn't know, somehow following the apparation line from traces in the atmosphere, something that had never been done before, and was obviously impossible, and had then killed a man, disarmed a few others, and apparated again. No wonder he was hungry!

Jebedee regarded him with some affection. Harry was eating as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. And it was confirmed by the Spanish that the man he'd killed had a bad reputation. He was rumoured to be a killer, but the only times there were witnesses, the killings were duelling deaths. He was supposedly the best duellist in the country, but according to Harry's account, corroborated by witnesses, Harry had allowed him to draw his wand first - obviously, Jebedee thought, so that he could claim it was a duelling death, even though it was probably just as much an execution as those long ago killings that he'd been convicted of. Or the killings of five terrorists currently attributed to Allah.

Jebedee stayed with the team that night, telling Harry casually that the following week's work had been cancelled to give him time to recover. Harry nodded and thanked him.

He went to her funeral a few days later. The aurors were waiting, knowing that it was likely he would be there, although he hadn't told them. But he didn't object when they took up defensive positions behind him. Tessa's parents looked at him bitterly, and turned their backs. Harry didn't approach them. There had been a letter of sympathy. It was not answered.

In her office that Thursday, Sandra Darke was very annoyed. There were always complaints when a visit was cancelled or postponed. Harry Potter really was an absolute pest, and he shouldn't be allowing a trifle like his girlfriend being murdered to upset her plans. From what she'd heard, he'd only known her three or four days!

Sarah, in her office, only did some rearranging. To Sarah, it was just part of the job.

A few days later, Julie's sister was reading the Kentucky Wizarding News, and commented, "I see your husband's been duelling."

"Duelling!" said Julie, incredulously, "Harry_ never_ duels. He's too good!"

Lynn read the article to her. It was very short on detail, although they managed to make it a long story anyway, padding it out with irrelevant statistics about duelling, and a reproduction of one of Harry's published articles about the stupidity of the tradition.

Julie went away quietly by herself afterwards. Whatever the full story, it sounded like Harry had been in danger again. What if he'd been killed, and she'd never seen him again? And she studied again the awkward, illegible scrawl on the bottom of a letter. She could make out his signature, but the rest of it was even worse than usual. She couldn't read it, and yet, she felt that she knew. She knew he desperately wanted her back. She went to her room and started packing.

Harry had been trying to visit Draco Malfoy again, but kept missing him. He once found Kryall there, though, and studied the young man, three years younger than his sister. Kryall was looking at him, alarmed. Feeling his alarm, Harry felt for the cause. So it was Nerrissa and Kryall who had definitely been responsible for both the Anniversary shambles and the killing of little Tess.

Unusually, Harry was looking fully at the mind of a person. Nerrissa was abroad, it seemed, and Kryall didn't know where she was. Harry felt his adoration for his sister, and knew that she used him for sexual satisfaction. There was a sick mixture of jealousy and lust when Kryall thought of his wonderful big sister, for whom he'd do anything. Kryall watched Harry as a petrified animal sometimes watches its predator.

Harry spoke. "Nerrissa is going to get herself killed. If you want to save yourself, then you have to get right away from her, remove yourself from her influence. Your grandfather is a friend, it would be a shame to have to kill the last of his family." And for the first time in his life, Harry made a real difference in the mind of another. He didn't do much, but he made Kryall see that his relationship with his sister was ruining him.

Harry dropped his influence, but his words were clearly remembered by Kryall, and he left England, not even keeping in contact, so that Nerrissa would not be able to drag him into any more of her schemes.

Harry thought about going after Nerrissa, but he knew her too little, only vaguely by sight. And it seemed she'd thought it prudent to hide from him. He went home.

The moment he arrived, he knew Julie had returned. He found her in the bedroom, and went to her, still a touch apprehensive. But she turned to him, and opened her arms. Harry had to battle to contain his emotion. She hated him showing weakness... Julie had come back to him, and the misery of months was over.

The days dawned sunny for a while. Fruit trees blossomed, and grass grew thick. Harry's home wore again its accustomed air of content. The boss and his wife lived and loved again together. Julie didn't want any more holidays away, and Harry kept working, but coming home every afternoon straight after.

The aurors no longer complained. Except for lunch, and occasionally breakfast, most of them scarcely saw them. Some of the female aurors were rostered on again, and Ivan and Natalie had a romance, and so did Peter and Tina.

***chapter end***


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter & his world belong to J. K. Rowling.___

_**Rated M for mature readers. Sexual content in this chapter. **_

_Chapter 12_:

In May, Harry and Julie rose late one Sunday, and breakfasted in contentment. It was a warm and sunny day.

There was a discovery awaiting them outside. Two big Andalusian mares grazed peacefully in their paddock, two tiny foals lay in the grass next to them. Black Senorita had a black foal, white Lady had an odd coloured foal. It had white and grey patches, like a piebald, and a black splash covered one ear and an eye. Harry stared in surprise. The foal's colour didn't follow any laws of genetics that he knew.

"Clown," said Julie. "He should be called Clown."

Clarice was due to have a foal, too, and also came to talk to them.

Ben had laughed at Harry when he mentioned once that the mare was called Clarice. Harry had long forgotten being sick once, not in his right mind, and asking he and Hermione to send for Clarice or Antoinette or Berthe. Not many men would have named a horse after a French prostitute!

The pinto was in an adjacent paddock now. Kintu had lost her latest foal, but now stayed very close to the little stallion, who had again taken matters into his own hands. He may have been too small to jump tall fences, but he was very good at opening gates. Kintu's next foal would be by the pinto.

**x**

But the next week, Harry worked in Sweden, and the second day, looked around, carefully scanning his surroundings, and told Brad that something wasn't right, that they needed to be alert. Brad never doubted him this time, and a word to the Swedes had the Swedish aurors especially alert. Not long after, their numbers were reinforced. The Swedes, too, had the highest respect for Harry Potter's instinct for danger. The heavy protection was very obvious.

He went to dinner once with Helmer and his wife. Helmer was still Helmer Roos - Harry may have been his genetic father, but was never like a real father, and Helmer still remembered his love for the man who had been his mother's husband. It never occurred to him to call himself Helmer Potter. After the evening, Harry returned home to his wife, as he did every night.

Nothing happened in Sweden, except that Harry showed himself more and more alert, and began to show those characteristics of long ago, frequent, wary glances around, and a constant, alert awareness of his surroundings.

Nothing happened in the next few weeks. Harry felt uneasy.

Several times, he went to see Draco Malfoy, looking for Nerrissa, and finally telling Draco that he suspected his grand-daughter might be watching him, to hurt him…. or something...

Draco looked very well again, to Harry's relief. Harry was nearly seventy-nine, and an age-mate who looked to him almost the same as ever, was a relief to him. Draco had few lines, stood straight and tall, and his white-blonde hair still looked white-blonde.

A routine work day in June. They were in Brazil, and Julie was with them, as Harry wanted his wife, but didn't want it known that he could apparate from South America to England. He had relaxed a lot when they first came to South America. They were doing three weeks straight, in three different countries, and this was their third week. Jebedee had rostered on more aurors, and more experienced aurors for this extended stay.

This was their last week, and then there was to be a week off, then Europe again. Harry had suggested to Julie that they just clear out, sink out of sight for a year or more, where they would not be in danger. But those letters when he sought to make her homesick might have been more effective than he realised. She didn't want to leave home.

Wednesday, and the usual succession of patients were shown in, cured, and steered efficiently out. Harry was bored, and paid little attention to his patients, scarcely noticing except when there was a more difficult one than usual, and that seemed more rare these days.

Simon was with him, and it was the Brazilian receptionist who brought in patient after patient.

A wizard was brought in, Harry gave him a bare glance, waved his wand casually, which didn't work, and started paying more attention. The man's face was that of a bat, reminding Harry of a little bat-girl once. He hadn't seen that spell since, and that had been many years ago.

He concentrated, feeling for the spell. But he felt something else as well.

Suddenly very alert, he asked the receptionist to get Brad for him. He didn't take his eyes off the wizard, and Simon was suddenly alert, too, and drew his wand. The wizard was very tense, cast his eyes about, and abruptly dashed for the door, but Simon hurled a trip jinx, and he went crashing into the waiting room. He spun around, and tried to stun Simon, but Simon was very quick, and he found himself disarmed, and tied helpless, to the alarm and surprise of others waiting.

"Well done," commented Harry.

Brad arrived, staring at the bat-faced wizard in confusion. There was a succession of squeaks and squeals, protests from the afflicted wizard.

"What's the meaning of this? Why is he attacked?" asked the Brazilian Coordinator.

Brad, too, was looking at Harry in confusion. Harry was leaning against the wall of the waiting room, wand in hand, looking intently at the wizard, although casting a wary look around at the others present as well.

"You might like to get one of the Brazilian aurors in here," suggested Harry, "Then I'll make him tell us why he's here."

He had to cure him first, though, so that he could talk.

With a little lightly magical persuasion, the wizard was soon telling them that he had been cursed on purpose, by three wizards together so the spell would be hard to break, and then, while Harry was off-guard and hopefully weary straight after curing him, he was to do something very nasty to Harry.

Harry shuddered, even though he thought that Catherine would probably have been able to put him right, if he didn't manage to fix himself. But how incredibly embarrassing it would have been. And what a story if the newspapers got hold of it!

But Harry was curious. "That's a very nasty curse they did to you. What if I didn't fix you?"

The wizard stated bitterly that he had no choice, that they did it to him without his consent.

Harry laughed, that'd be right. He did some more questioning then. He especially wanted to know who was responsible, and when the wizard didn't appear to know, he tried to see if the wizard at least had some idea if it was male or female.

But it seemed there were too many people between the one who had tried to do the action, and the one who had tried again to hurt him. He left it to the aurors then, getting on with the work as if nothing had happened. He didn't even tell Julie, though she found out from the aurors, and when Harry tried to persuade her to go home, she actually did. He would never have forgiven himself if they'd attacked Julie like they'd attacked little Tess.

Julie knew about Tess, even that she'd been let into his room while he slept. Harry and Julie never mentioned it. She had it from a different source, and never held it against him.

Harry wasn't even involved in another incident that happened that day. There was no-one hurt, only two muggles with guns were stunned. It would have been awkward to hand them over to the muggle police, but the Brazilian aurors were going to take care of it.

That night, there was another attack. This time there was an attempt to enter the hotel, but the prowling aurors stopped them. And as it was unclear whether they were on their way in or their way out, they checked on Harry. Simon was on guard, and said that there had been no disturbance, that Harry was safe inside.

"Are you sure?"

Simon pulled out his eavesdropping device, standard equipment for aurors, listened, but could hear nothing. It would have been easier if Harry snored.

Brad was suddenly suspicious, and asked Simon to open the door. It wouldn't be the first time that Harry had disapparated from within, and not told them. Brad had shared some complaints with Franz over the years.

But when Brad peered in, he could see Harry, almost naked, prone on the bed. It was not for long, as suddenly, light flooded the room, Harry was up and standing next to the bed, fully alert, very tense, and with wand raised in his hand.

He lowered his wand as he regarded the startled aurors at the door.

"What is it?" he asked.

Brad said, "Just making sure that you're safe - and here."

Harry assured him, "I won't go out without telling you - not these days - and I'm even wearing the location device that I'm not supposed to know about!" referring to the watch that now had the extra device added.

Brad laughed shortly, "Good!"

"Something happen?"

But Brad said, "We dealt with it." He sometimes felt as if Harry thought the aurors helpless compared to himself.

"No-one hurt?" asked Harry, and Brad shook his head. "We'll tell you tomorrow."

Harry settled himself down again. Three attacks in one day, it was a bit much.

They finished the last two days' work with relief. They were very alert, and had a lot of help from the Brazilian aurors.

Harry was worried, not only that he might be attacked at any moment, but that someone around him would be hurt. He nearly always got to like the aurors, and it would hurt him to see them hurt, and there was Catherine, too, of whom he'd become very fond. Harry had not lived as long as he had by taking chances, and he cancelled any further spell-breaking trips until further notice. He'd been working every week with scarcely a break now for some time, they could do without him for a little.

Sandra Darke complained again. He was always inconveniencing her.

Harry had become very cautious, although Julie didn't like it when he insisted on being with her whenever she went out. He had a fear that Nerrissa might attack him through Julie. And still he could not track down Nerrissa, although Draco told him that Kryall had been in touch, and was now married, and already expecting a child. But Nerrissa was actually quite fond of Julie, even while she held her in some contempt. She didn't really have much brain!

**x**

Harry had done no work for six weeks except for a quick stint at Ben's office, where he was far more heavily protected than usual. But there was a plea from Germany, who had suddenly had a rash of pumpkin-heads on the weekend. Twenty-four, all muggles, and all within the last two days.

Sandra said they might as well do a week's work, since they were going anyway, but Jebedee ensured that Harry had more aurors than usual, and also that they were all experienced. Brad was in charge again, but instead of twenty-year-olds, Harry had Alex, Simon, Justin, Grant, Louis, and Fritz, none of them younger than twenty-five.

The pumpkin-heads were first, of course. Their rescue was urgent. This attack had made a lot of trouble for German wizardry, as so many muggles had been affected, both directly and indirectly. It was hard to keep secret the fact that wizards moved among them when they saw the head of a wife, for instance, suddenly turned to a pumpkin. There had been a need for a lot of memory modification. There were too many to deal with all at once, and they were spaced through the day, starting with a few before lunch, although normally, they only did an afternoon's work the first day.

Harry had warned Julie that he might not make it back every night this time - so many pumpkin-heads could easily be quite tiring. There was the possibility of injury to himself, also, though he didn't mention that to Julie.

Both Alex and Grant were to be with him, as pumpkin-heads were so unpredictable. Alex conjured the barrier as Harry had taught him, a flexible, transparent barrier. Harry's only contribution was a portion that was transparent to telepathy, something that needed his own skills. He put a time limit on it, as he still could not make spells that could be broken by other wizards. He planned to use it like a doorway, erecting and removing it as needed.

And then he started work. The first pumpkin-head was brought in and placed behind the barrier. Harry erected his portion, stood behind it, and started concentrating as normal. It was supposed to be almost transparent to telepathy. It wasn't working. Something was different. He stepped back, shaking his head, and finally said that he'd try another. The man was there, alive, and it should have been easy enough. He'd done a lot of these now. The only hard part was trying to keep them calm, but this time, it wasn't working.

The pumpkin-head was led out, and was sat in placid stupidity back in the waiting room, to a buzz of comment. Except when Harry declared a pumpkin-head dead, he was known always to succeed.

Another was brought in. Again, Harry tried. Again, there was unexpected difficulty.

This time, he raised his wand, vanished the barrier, held the man's hand, and worked harder. He had a fit of trembling, disrupting concentration.

"What's the matter?" asked Catherine.

Harry was still staring at the pumpkin-head. "I'm not quite sure. Maybe it's because they're muggles - maybe we really are more different than I've always thought."

The trembling died down, and Harry tried again, this time bringing forward a chair, sitting in front of the pumpkin-head, holding the hands of the monster, closing his eyes, and putting all his efforts into feeling the mind. It felt dense to him, different. He'd never realised, but muggles really were a bit different. They interbred easily enough with wizardry, though - they couldn't be that different.

The aurors glanced at each other, and came very close, wands raised. Harry was now in a very vulnerable position, having abandoned the barrier that he'd devised for the safety of all of them.

It took much longer than usual, but suddenly, finally, the monster turned back to a man, who straightaway slumped to the floor. Harry stared in consternation.

Catherine went to the fallen man, and a German mediwizard joined her.

"Is he all right?" asked Harry, anxiously.

"Just fainted, I think," said Catherine, calmly.

The ambulance team were called in, but Harry was still unhappy. "I don't think I should do any more until the first wakes."

"Why so worried, Harry?" asked Catherine. "Surely it's better than berserk!"

Harry was frowning. "They're different. I'm not sure if I've fixed him or wrecked him."

He leaned against the wall, looking into the distance. He wore a remote air and no-one spoke to him, although muttered consultations were going on in the waiting room. What was wrong with the great wizard today?

At last, he moved. "I'm just going to feel the others, not do anything yet," and he went, sat beside the first pumpkin-head, the one he had failed, and touched him, leaning back, closing his eyes, exploring. Then the other. He felt more confident now, the mind of the muggle becoming more clear to him.

Brad came in. "No word from the hospital yet, but they'll let us know."

Harry had looked up. Brad continued, calmly, organising. "What we're going to do is have lunch now, we're already late, and wait for news as Harry wants."

Harry nodded. He liked the way that Brad made decisions, calmly, sensibly. He was abstracted at lunch, and they left him alone. He remembered saying to some-one once that magic was just another talent, that wizards were only ordinary people with an extra talent. He was wrong. He supposed that Beth had known all along. Mugglekind and Wizardkind were different.

Word came at lunch-time that the man who'd been a pumpkin-head was awake, but as if tranquillised. Harry insisted on going to see him before proceeding. They were very much behind now, but, of course, he was given his way. No-one else could do this job. As far as any-one knew, no-one else had _ever_ been able to do this job.

Back to work, and Harry again concentrated, first making an attempt with the barrier between, and then without. It took less time, but again the patient collapsed in a faint. Harry asked for progress reports, on the other one, too. He wanted to know when he became normally alert.

He proceeded with the others, no longer waiting. Each day that passed increased the risk of the person concealed in the vegetable becoming mad or dying.

None of these were dead, and each one was hard work. One after another, they collapsed in a faint, until Catherine suggested that they placed them on the ambulance trolley before he started work.

Word came back from the hospital. More pumpkin-heads were awake, each was as if tranquillised, but the first appeared perfectly normal again, although confused to find himself in a closed ward. They expected to send him home to his wife the following day. Harry was very relieved.

He was getting faster as he became used to the differences of the muggles, but they each took time, and he was relieved when Catherine called a break. They were going to be working very late today.

He was eating more than usual, Catherine noted quietly to herself, and also he'd had several episodes of trembling. He never commented on those, and Catherine suspected that he scarcely even noticed them these days.

Number fifteen. Slowly, they were getting through them. Brad suggested that some be put off to the following day as they were so much behind time, but Harry said no, that it was like they were already dying, very hard to pull back, and maybe impossible by the following day. He wanted to finish them that day, no matter if they worked very late.

Progress reports were coming regularly, and indicated good recovery by all the muggles rescued so far.

Number sixteen was different. They put him on the ambulance trolley as they'd been doing, Harry sat beside him as he was beginning to be very tired, and held the hand. It was always a bit easier if he was in physical contact, although he had seldom needed that aid in recent years. He felt the characteristic pattern of the muggle mind, felt the sodden deadness of the mind, as if he was already leaving life behind. It was so hard to penetrate, but eventually he found the trigger point that pulled the man from the monster. The man kicked out suddenly, catching Harry across the head, and knocking him to the floor. For the first time they had one who was struggling. But he was not berserk, as rescued wizards often went berserk, and he quickly fell into a more sluggish resistance before lying back, staring at the ceiling as if hypnotised.

Harry pulled himself to the wall and just sat. His head was spinning, and he was getting very tired. Still eight to go, and each one was difficult. Catherine came to him, wanting to check him out.

"Ten minute break," she said briefly, over her shoulder. She took the Niscos, noting that energy levels were way down. Harry was getting too tired. As Brad had done, she suggested that they put the rest back to the following day. But again Harry said no, and explained that the pumpkin-heads were in the process of dying, that even now, they seemed to be getting further and further away, harder to pull back.

"Cancel tomorrow morning's work, though, by all means, and I certainly won't be able to go home tonight."

Catherine nodded calmly, and went out to Brad, cancelled all patients for the following day, and put a few sandwiches from leftover afternoon tea on a plate for Harry. She'd noticed that even his weight was down. With Harry, it seemed to happen so quickly.

Brad sent a message to Julie, just that Harry would not be home that night.

More pumpkin-heads, and no other showed the life of Number sixteen. Each of them fainted, and according to reports, each of them revived, although as the day wore on, the reports were indicating longer periods of unconsciousness. Catherine thought that Harry was right, that they were in the process of dying, and no longer tried to press him to stop. He was trembling almost continuously now, depending on his cane, and sitting as he worked, irrespective of the risks of flailing legs or fists.

He cured another, again taking a long time, and waited for the next. His head was buzzing, and he didn't notice Brad watching him closely from the door.

Catherine was by his side, taking his hand. Her voice took a while to penetrate. "That's the last, Harry. You're finished."

Harry looked up, "Finished?"

Catherine said again, "Finished!"

"Thank God!" said Harry, starting to get up, but staggering, in spite of his cane.

Grant walked close to his side, as they returned to their accommodation, not far away. Instead of a muggle hotel, this time they were in a private home, the home of the German Minister. Other security measures included a very large guard of German aurors, as well as the seven English aurors who had come over with Harry.

Dinner had been put back, and the cook had been getting more and more out of temper as his carefully prepared dishes waited, congealing. Harry was very hungry, and a quiet word ensured that the planned formalities were dropped.

The German Minister was watching him, not impressed. He had been very slow, inefficient, Bierlitz thought, and now he was trembling and kept dropping his food.

His silent criticism made Harry look up, put down his knife and fork, and rise from the table, excusing himself politely, but clinging to the back of his chair as his head swam.

Grant rose, too, and Catherine. Harry made no objection, though neither had finished their meal. His head was swimming, and he didn't even know where they'd put him.

Grant firmly took his arm, and a polite German servant indicated that they should follow him. So this was the great wizard, the servant was thinking. The great wizard stumbled over tired feet, ably supported by burly Grant.

Harry had been allotted the best guest bedroom the mansion had to offer, a large room, with its own bathroom and toilet. They sat him in a chair, still trembling, and Catherine had a quick word with the servant. Harry was looking longingly at the bed, but he was still so hungry, as well.

Catherine returned with her monitoring equipment at the same time as the expressionless servant returned with a tray of sandwiches, easier for trembling hands to manage.

Harry half grinned at Catherine, shame-faced, "Thanks."

Catherine just sat, letting him eat, as Grant stood back against the wall. A loud stomach rumble drew Harry's attention to him.

"Sorry," he said, "Sandwich?"

Grant declined, saying that he'd no doubt get something after.

Harry's trembling diminished after the meal. Catherine did her measurements, appalled to find how much he'd drained himself, thinking that he'd take days or even weeks to recover. But she only left Grant with him in case he needed help, before reporting to Brad, and being served with another meal, as she, too, had largely missed dinner.

She'd persuaded Harry to consent to put on the wrist sensor that she knew he always kept with him, just in case he got into trouble, and she kept an eye on the red book/monitor. His normal watch, the one with the location device, was slipped off, forgotten, and left on the side table.

On the other wrist, to conceal the deep red mark of a rope injury, was another watch, one that showed local times of many countries, handy for someone who could be in another continent in an instant.

When Catherine checked the monitor after her meal, she could see that he was already very deeply asleep, also that the LV was beginning to rise again toward his normal, but that energy levels were still rock bottom.

Just as Nerrissa had planned when she had performed the pumpkin-head curse, again and again, Harry was no longer alert and potentially dangerous. He was still heavily guarded, with German and English aurors on watch in and around the mansion, and both Simon and Louis outside his door. Nerrissa had spent months thinking about the problem, planning. She knew exactly what she wanted now, and the Malfoys had always had the money to hire as much help as they wanted.

Their progress through the mansion was not without incident, and an English auror and a German one wound up as pumpkin-heads, sitting placidly in a large broom cupboard where they'd been put. There were several stunned, too. Nerrissa was a very powerful witch, and without conscience.

Kryall was at her side. She'd found him again, and again he was her devoted servant, enjoying the favours of his sister whenever Nerrissa felt so disposed. But Nerrissa knew what she wanted, and everything was prepared.

She put both of Harry's closest guards under the Imperius curse, and then inspected Simon more closely. He was so goodlooking, very blonde, and still looked about eighteen, even though he was closer to thirty. They took Simon with them, as well as Harry. Large, ungraceful Louis was just to stay in his chair, and, if questioned, say that Simon had just gone to the toilet and would be back in a minute.

Catherine checked on Harry about that time, using the so convenient monitor. She'd been doing that every hour, watching a quite rapid recovery in LV levels, and energy levels were beginning to rise, too, finally. She'd thought he was beginning to be closer to waking the last time she'd checked, but now he was deeply asleep again.

The monitor did not differentiate between natural sleep, and unconsciousness induced by drugs or by spells. There had been a precautionary stun spell used on the sleeping man, and then an injection of muggle drug to keep him asleep for several safe hours. It was a newly developed drug. Nerrissa was aware that he may have acquired a tolerance to muggle tranquilliser from his previous experience of being kidnapped.

In a hotel room, not far away, she had her fantasy come true. Here was the man she'd been obsessing over. He was unconscious, just as in the film. And he was beautiful. Nerrissa caressed the shoulders and chest, and her hands wandered down his body. He still wore silk sleeping shorts, and her hands touched genitals through the silk.

Simon watched from a corner, standing next to Kryall. Simon was filled with a wonderful feeling of unthinking happiness.

Kryall was filled with a feeling of sick jealousy, but when commanded, he took out the camera. Nerrissa wanted to relish this experience for the rest of her life, she would add it to her collection of film of Harry being abused.

Nerrissa was tall, slim, and pale blonde, with a face that looked Patrician in profile. Right now, though, the clearest impression that an observer would have had, was that of pure, unbridled lust.

She didn't remove the sleeping shorts at first, just explored the supine body in front of her. Strong thighs, muscular calves, she even played with feet, sniffing the slight foot odour with an odd pleasure. He'd been too tired to bother with a shower the previous night, and she sniffed him all over, in pleasure.

She inspected his face more closely then, running her fingers down the scar on his cheek, and touching the forehead scar with her tongue. And she kissed his mouth, pushing apart his lips, and dipping a tongue into the warmth of his mouth. She kissed him a long time, until the complete lack of response had her lose interest.

Instead, she got up onto the bed, sitting on his thighs, a leg to each side, and ran her hands over his chest again. Such a beautiful build. Drawing out the pleasure, she caressed very gently over the genitals to begin with, surprised and delighted at the quick response as his penis stirred beneath the silk. Maybe Mistress Annie's helping device would not be needed, but she'd brought it, so she would use it.

Still gentle, still slowly, she drew out her pleasure. He was in full erection by the time she vanished the sleeping shorts, and she caressed in admiration. She didn't know where the rumour had started about his size, and she had seen bigger, but it was well and truly enough to satisfy any woman.

She was licking now, but carefully, watching. It must not happen too soon. A condom was ready to use, and she rolled it onto the erect penis, leaving sufficient loose at the tip to collect what she wanted. A thin, stiff, but flexible tube was gently inserted into his anus, and switched on so that a small balloon inflated, and the probe began a gentle vibration. Guaranteed to induce orgasm, Annie had said.

With the vibration, and a warm tongue caressing the base of his penis, it didn't take long. Nerrissa carefully folded over and sealed the condom, used her wand to make a spell, and placed it carefully in her bag. Nerrissa had decided to have the baby of Harry Potter.

Kryall continued filming, it was what his sister wanted. Simon watched also, in a state of blissful acceptance. Nerrissa was very good at the Imperius spell.

Nerrissa was sitting back. The semen would be good indefinitely. But she wondered if she could do something more direct. She started caressing again. And then she moved a little back on the bed, and leaned forward, taking the now soft penis in her mouth. Not many men are able to perform again so quickly, except maybe for teenage boys. But before long, Nerrissa was working on a penis, again large and hard. She was good at this, and was taking most of it in her mouth, but suddenly thought that she must not risk wasting it.

Kryall was as fully aroused as Nerrissa, his own erection almost painful, but he continued to film as she wanted. Nerrissa had said that was what he was to do.

Nerrissa changed position, and straddled Harry's pelvis, holding and steering the hard penis into herself with a groan of pleasure. She had to do all the work, as Harry had made no conscious move since he had come under her control. But before long, he was again climaxing. Nerrissa worked the spell. She would almost certainly become pregnant now, by Harry, and totally without his consent. Maybe she'd use the stored semen for a second child, or maybe a friend would like a child by Harry Potter.

She smiled in satisfaction, and slipped off him. She was sticky with semen and with her own excited wetness, but she relished the feeling and didn't think of cleaning herself. She was still wearing her skimpy dress, but never wore pants, and she felt trickles down her inner thighs, with a feeling of sensuous satisfaction.

Back in her room, Catherine woke to the sound of her alarm. She was still checking on Harry every hour. This time, she frowned, and checked her notebook. Energy levels had declined again, and so had LV. He was still very deeply unconscious, surely more so than he should have been.

Catherine decided that she needed to have a closer look at him, but Louis refused her entry, and Simon was missing. And there was something a bit strange with the way Louis was behaving.

Catherine retreated cautiously, but a moment later, was rapping hard on Brad's door. Brad took one look at Louis. He'd seen that look before. Louis was not himself, but Brad knew what to do. The Curse was taken off, and Louis shook his head, confused, and made no further hindrance to their entry.

Brad swore, seeing the empty bed, and after a quick check in the bathroom, went shouting to raise the alarm. Catherine called after him, "He's alive, and within a few miles!" The monitor had a range of about three miles, Hermione had told her.

Nerrissa still had Harry, naked on the bed. She stood by the side of the bed, and caressed his body again - possessively, leaning down for a moment, and gently biting a nipple. Mistress Annie had told her that men liked having their nipples bitten, although that had not been her experience.

What could she do with him now? She looked at the observers, noting the clear outline of an erection under the clothing of Kryall. She liked him like this, acutely aroused, and kept frustrated. But she gave instructions - she knew what she wanted now, and Simon, on her bidding, came and helped roll Harry onto his face, before resuming his place at the wall.

Nerrissa touched the controls of the device inserted into his anus, switched off the vibration, deflated the balloon, and pulled it out, wrapping it carefully in an expensive silk handkerchief, and putting it in her bag with the packaged semen. It was a souvenir. It had been inside his body.

She caressed his back. God, how she loved a man's broad shoulders. His bottom, too. Cute, like that of a youth. She looked at Kryall, and pointed. "Make love to him, the way a man does to a man."

Kryall backed away, and almost for the first time in his life, defied her. "No way, you know what he did to those others!"

Nerrissa had to acknowledge that was a good point. And she looked at Harry's friend, the blonde, goodlooking auror, whom they'd brought back with no specific plans for his use.

It was harder than she thought. There was no good just instructing him in what she wanted, as he was showing no signs of any arousal at all. Instead, she went to him, as Kryall still filmed, and she ran her hand over the outside of his clothing, and murmured to him about how desirable was the body of Harry, and how he would love to be inside that body. That she'd heard that the aurors all liked Harry, that Harry needed to be made love to.

She was getting her way, Simon had developed an erection and was looking at the prone body of his friend with desire.

On a sudden thought, Nerrissa took a knife, tilted Harry's body to the side a little, and dug the knife into the groin as she had seen on the film. Harry started to bleed, profusely. But it was not spurting. She had not pierced the femoral artery. She let him fall prone again, but blood was beginning to soak the sheets and mattress underneath him. Simon had not seen. Her body had obscured his vision, and Simon was still not making any move except under instruction.

Nerrissa pulled apart Harry's legs, so that Simon could kneel between. Nerrissa was still talking to Simon. How wonderfully desirable were those muscular shoulders, how gorgeously lean his flanks, how cute the bottom. How Simon couldn't wait to make love to him. And Simon felt an overpowering sexual excitement just as Nerrissa said he should, and did as she said, kneeling between his legs, and trying to push his own hard penis into the anus of his friend, but finding it difficult.

Nerrissa said wait, and went to help. She parted Harry's buttocks with tender hands, and licked around the anus, moistening, and making slippery. Her tongue was delving inside, too, persuading tight muscles to relax a little. She worked on him for a while, and then turned to Simon, taking his penis into her mouth, so that both surfaces would be slippery, so that Simon could penetrate Harry, as she watched. Kryall still filmed.

Catherine was watching the monitor in alarm. She was with Brad, and called to him that somehow they had to find him. The readings looked worse and worse. Somewhere, not far away, Harry was dying in his sleep.

The delay had given Simon a reprieve, and in spite of the wonderful feeling of a woman's mouth around his penis, he was beginning to fight the Imperius Curse. This was a horrible thing. Harry would hate it, not love it as he was told. Simon's own wife might never forgive him if he did such a thing.

Abruptly he broke free from the curse, whacked Nerrissa hard across the side of her head, and bounded from the bed. He still had his wand, as Nerrissa had quite enjoyed having an armed auror standing helpless. He whipped it out, and tried to stun them both, and probably would have succeeded if he hadn't tripped over his sagging trousers, and missed.

Kryall cried out in alarm, and disapparated, dropping the camera. Nerrissa hesitated a moment, but she had what she wanted, delayed only an instant to pick up the bag containing a carefully folded and sealed condom and a sex aid, and she, too, disapparated.

Back at the home of Bierlitz, several aurors and a few servants who had been stunned, were being found and revived. Two pumpkin-heads stood grotesque, side by side in the sitting room, now the centre of an organised operation. Only Simon was still unaccounted for, not counting Harry, the obvious target. Catherine still watched the monitor. If Harry was lost, so were the two aurors, and one was Alex.

Simon was confused. His memory was blurred, but there was no doubt that his trousers were around his knees, and when he looked back at Harry, there was a residual tingling of desire. He knew what he had almost done, and there was memory of other things that had been done to Harry, although flavoured with an odd feeling of distant contentment.

With shaking hands, he readjusted his clothing, and suddenly he pointed his wand at the camera, and it became ashes on the floor. Poor Simon felt sick, and he felt even more sick when he again felt a sudden temptation. Harry really did have a beautiful body.

But he remembered he was an auror, and he was Harry's bodyguard. His duty was to be in control, and to look after his charge. But he was not going to tell anyone what had happened - ever. They'd just been taken prisoner, he didn't know why. There had been no sex, of course not. And probably Harry always slept naked. They'd only been away a couple of hours, not much would have happened in that time.

Carefully, gently, Simon turned Harry over, appalled now to see the great pool of blood beneath the body. And he still bled. There was no residual desire left now, just anxiety for his friend, and the responsibility of a bodyguard to his charge. Simon was no bigger than Harry, but aurors had to be fit and strong, and he lifted Harry in his arms, and apparated into the corridor outside Harry's bedroom.

He was seen immediately, as he carried the inert body of Harry into the bedroom, leaving a trail of blood as he went. The word went out for Catherine, and for Brad. Catherine soon stopped the bleeding, and healed the untidy wound, and Simon was given a thorough grilling by Brad. He told no-one the whole story. He was especially not planning on telling Harry.

***chapter end***


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter & his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Rated M for mature readers. Sexual content in some chapters. _

_Chapter 13:_

Harry was confused when he woke in the afternoon of the following day. He knew that he'd been tired, but hadn't expected to sleep this long. And he was feeling a lot more tired and weak than he should have done by now. It was only when Brad had been called that he was given an explanation as best they knew. That he'd been missing a few hours, and had been cut so that he bled. That his life had nearly been lost. Nothing else had happened of any significance.

Harry frowned at Brad. He was not being told everything. And suddenly he said, "Alex? What's happened to Alex?"

Brad hadn't been intending to tell him yet, Catherine said that Harry was too weak to try and save the two aurors, that they could wait another day. But to Harry, it was urgent to rescue pumpkin-heads. They should not be left in that awful imprisonment a moment longer than necessary.

They made him wait until after he had breakfast, and Harry found that he could scarcely walk, he was so weak.

He cured the two aurors from his bed, Louis and Grant firmly holding the arms of Alex, who was done first. But Alex had only collapsed, crying. He'd known that Harry would come, but it was awful, not being able to see, or hear, or smell, or even feel the world around him.

Two large German aurors brought in the other. Harry looked at the featureless pumpkin on the top of the shoulders of the large man. His sense of person was not reliant on facial features, and he said straight away, in a tone of surprise, "It's Emil!"

One of the German aurors nodded, "His name's Emil - did you know him?"

Harry's mouth quirked. "I bet he'll be pleased now,that he didn't succeed in destroying me," and he went to work, and Emil was suddenly free, but fighting to get at Harry, in order to obliterate the sick man who had done something unbelievably awful to him.

But the German aurors steered him away, and Harry was well protected by other aurors who surrounded his bed, blocking access by the berserk ex-pumpkin-head. Catherine made them leave him alone then, and he dozed, beginning again to recover.

Bierlitz was getting sick of his home being over-run by aurors, and by the so-called great wizard who was not so great after all, and had made trouble by getting himself taken captive. But there were three days worth of patients yet to go, and one was his wife's son, his step-son. He'd get hell from her if Harry didn't do the job.

Wednesday morning, Harry was a lot better, making a face over the potion that Catherine was insisting that he drink in spite of his objections that potions never worked on him. He was eating well, and able again to walk with just his cane to help. He still wore the sensor device, and now wore the watch with the location device on his other wrist. But he had the feeling that he was no longer in danger. He was also curious to see Simon.

But it was Julie who walked in, and he rose from his chair to embrace his wife, holding her tight. They had been apart two nights - it was a deprivation.

An auror had been with him constantly. The orders were that he was not to be left alone. But now Julie was here, and he demanded and was granted privacy with his wife. A silence shield clamped down, and Justin, on guard outside, grinned. Harry's virility was a part of the legend. Now that it was a few months ago, even the virgin who had been taken in about three seconds flat, was beginning to be a part of the stories, although the sudden end to the affair was already being forgotten. No-one dreamt of joking about it to Harry, and no auror would ever again let a woman into his room, whether or not they thought he needed sex.

Catherine was still alert for problems as Harry's recovery seemed almost unnaturally fast, and when she glanced at the monitor, she was puzzled. But when she went to see, Justin grinned, and shook his head at her, saying that he was with his wife. Catherine took another look at the monitor, and laughed to herself. So that's what that pattern meant.

That afternoon, Brad brought Simon in to see Harry, although Simon had been oddly reluctant. Harry was still feeling feeble, and was found in a chair, reading a book. He thanked Simon sincerely for rescuing him, but as soon as that was done, Brad spoke to him. "Can you tell if his memory has been modified?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, and Brad explained further. "It doesn't make sense, I think there's something missing."

Harry glanced at Simon, and couldn't help hearing a very clear thought, _You don't want to know!_

Harry said, perfectly honestly, "I have no trouble feeling spells, it's my job. There's been no memory modification," and he smiled at Simon, "They said you broke out of an Imperius Curse. It's a very rare thing to beat an Imperius Curse - you should be very proud of yourself!"

Simon gave him a shamed look and refused to meet his eyes. Harry had a fairly good idea of what it was all about, he'd been through it before. But he thought that if he spoke to Simon, it should not be with Brad's shrewd eyes on them, looking for the truth of the matter.

Thursday, Catherine said that Harry could resume work, but only do easy ones. Aside from working from a chair, Harry whizzed through the spells quickly and easily, only irritating the Germans at breaks by getting on his hobby horse about the futility of duelling. One pointed out to him that he'd been in a duel himself not so long ago, but Harry said reasonably, "Yes, but that was only because I wanted to kill him!"

Brad looked away, stifling a laugh. Sometimes Harry just didn't seem to think like normal people.

Harry had no chance to talk to Simon until after they returned to England. But Sunday afternoon, he was ringing the doorbell of his home, greeting Simon's pleasant young wife, and admiring her baby. She'd said that Simon would be home any minute, but when Simon walked in, it looked like he wanted to bolt.

But Harry was just talking quietly and calmly about the ornate ornamentation of the mansion belonging to Bierlitz, and having a discussion with Christine about taste in general. He said that his family all said that he himself had no taste, just because he liked bright colours, but that he never had been able to resist. Christine was shy, but becoming less shy, and finally put the beautiful baby in his lap as she went off to make the coffee.

Simon was silent, but Harry took the opportunity, in between tickling the baby, who appeared to be as fascinated by him as Harry was always fascinated by babies. Without preliminaries, Harry said that he had a good friend who had got him in the back with a Death Curse once, acting under the Imperius Curse. Someone else he once knew had tortured a friend. And he came to it, that whatever Simon had done, he shouldn't be ashamed.

Simon was looking down, thinking that no matter what he said, no man could forgive what he had so nearly done to Harry. And Harry had saved him once. He'd been drugged himself, and was to be prey.

Harry said, in a matter-of-fact tone, "I assume it was Nerrissa Malfoy, and knowing what Nerrissa likes, I assume that she had you rape me. I was just wondering if she took any film, or other evidence."

Simon was bright red. "I didn't, quite, and I destroyed the camera."

Harry smiled, "What a relief! A rape is not so bad, especially if you don't even feel it, but having everyone watch it - now that's pretty awful!"

Christine returned with some biscuits and coffee, and Harry entertained them with stories of the wonderful foals that he had now, sired by a little pinto, off two Andalusian mares, and another mare, mostly Thoroughbred. And about Clown, especially, of the odd colouring. And he was laughing about the pinto. His ambitions were still not satisfied, and they had to keep the gate to his property closed, and even then, he had somehow wriggled underneath, and he had had to pay compensation to a neighbour. He was such a brainy little horse - it would be a shame to geld him.

When Harry got up to leave, Simon rose with him, saying that he'd just walk with him a little way. Christine watched them go, thinking how very nice Harry Potter was. But it wasn't his good looks, or his approachability, or his entertaining stories - Harry had been very admiring of the fat, six month old baby. He was obviously a wonderful man!

"I'm glad you kept it quiet," said Harry to Simon. "My humiliations always seem to be so public."

Simon was silent.

Harry thought that he was still not convinced. "You really did well, you know. Hardly anyone can resist an Imperius Curse, and if you doubt that you did well, remember that you saved Alex as well as me. Emil, too, though I'm not so sure that that was such a good thing. I even forgot to give him boils!"

Simon finally, reluctantly, said, "There's something else you should know?"

Harry's heart sank. He'd heard those words before, and it was never good. He stopped walking, and waited for the bad news.

Simon had stopped, too, and would not look at Harry. "She had sex with you, and she also kept some semen - I don't quite know what for, unless she plans to have your baby."

Harry turned and started walking again. "I didn't know that one _could _have sex with an unconscious man, let alone do it effectively enough to get pregnant!"

Simon said nothing, and Harry spoke again. "There are certain spells that use semen - not good spells," and he shivered suddenly. "Thanks for telling me - you're right, I did need to know. But no-one else does."

A month later, he thought that maybe she didn't plan to use the semen for Dark Magic, as nothing nasty had happened to him.

**x**

He had still not been able to find Nerrissa, although he had found Kryall, thinking carefully, remembering the feel of his mind, and apparating to him. He had stayed out of sight, watching Kryall's sweet young wife, just beginning to show her pregnancy. And without restraint, he explored the mind of Kryall. It was mostly concerned with trying to find needed baby furniture at a moderate cost, as he had fled England and was terrified of being found again by Nerrissa, so had not sent for funds. Harry left him alone.

He had no sense of danger any more, and didn't think he was even being watched. He guessed that Nerrissa had what she wanted, and was content. But Jebedee wanted him to continue to wear the location device on his watch, even in England, and Harry complied. It wouldn't show up in his own hidden home, and the wrist-band concealed the embarrassing wrist scars, although they were finally beginning to fade. They did try hard to keep him safe, and he owed them some cooperation. And they had quite definitely saved his life that last time. The Ministry had also decreed that the overseas trips were to cease for the time being.

Harry was restless as the weather turned cold. He was waiting for something to happen.

Julie seemed to be happy with him, but still didn't want to travel. Harry thought they might as well travel as he wasn't working anyway, and it seemed to be raining all the time at home. He spent more time galloping and playing with his horses, both Kinsman and another black gelding, much younger, sired by a racehorse. Younger horses liked to buck and have fun, while older horses seemed to lose the desire.

Harry tried to play this way with only his own nominated horses, as other riders did not appreciate a horse that had been encouraged to buck and rear. But he was a wealthy man, and could indulge himself if he chose.

It was if he was waiting for something, and Harry continued restless. One Wednesday, it was raining again, and Harry was pacing. Julie finally told him for goodness sake to go for a walk. Harry looked at the mud outside - he was hopeless in slippery mud, and apparated to London instead.

He had nothing to do particularly, and stayed in muggle London, just walking.

His thoughts were far away, pondering again the differences he had felt in the minds of muggles as against wizards. It was a shame that it was unethical to explore minds without good reason, it would be a fascinating area of study. But what would he do with his results afterward? Wizards scorned muggles enough already without giving them any further reason to think they were a separate species. And anyway, they weren't really a separate species, or they would not interbreed so easily. He'd sired four children on muggle women himself, although he felt embarrassed about it, and was thankful that now he was respectably married again, he was safe from any more of that sort of complication.

Unless there was Nerrissa, still in hiding. Harry didn't like the idea of sharing a child with Nerrissa, but there didn't seem much that he could do about it if that was really what she wanted. He couldn't kill a pregnant woman, whether or not it was his own child that she was carrying. But there had been no word.

Julie knew, of course, that he had been in the hands of Nerrissa, but he didn't pass on what Simon had told him. Maybe Nerrissa would not succeed, or maybe it was never her intention. She could even have changed her mind...

So Harry walked, and thought, and never noticed when an auror started to keep him in sight, although staying well back.

He started to cross a low bridge under which ran a shallow stream, more mud than water, but stopped, turning his head as if scenting, although the only smells were unpleasant. And then, to the auror's surprise, he started to slide down the bank of the stream, and even took a step forward into the mud.

Lance came forward more quickly. What on earth was the man doing? Harry didn't know Lance, although he'd been around quite a while, and was a very skilled auror. His very average looks helped him be inconspicuous, and he was especially good at following people and not being noticed.

Nerrissa's information on his whereabouts had also come through the Ministry. The location device he wore mostly to please Jebedee, was now giving information to Nerrissa. The Malfoys had always been good at getting information, and help when needed.

Harry slipped, and went down on a knee, to the accompaniment of a swear word. He retreated to drier ground then, as Lance still watched, puzzled, staying out of sight.

Harry used his wand, pointed it at the mud, where an old bag lay, half in, half out of the water. The bag came to him, and Harry opened it, gently, removing the half drowned and very cold kittens. Beside him had appeared a lidded basket, and Harry carefully placed the surviving kittens in the warmed blanket inside. There were four kittens, and they all looked dead, or nearly dead. But only one was dead, and Harry stroked its skinny wet sides for a moment before it vanished in his hands.

Three kittens lay in their warmed basket. But Harry still looked. There was something else. A pair of very dirty children watched him from the opposite bank. They'd been playing dams in the mud.

He managed to make it back up the slippery, muddy bank, although with a great deal of difficulty. But he still looked at the water, walking a little along the top of the bank, a narrow track between the stream and the tiny backyards of small houses. The children lost interest, and went back to their game.

He finally saw the tied bag. This time, there was movement, and Harry rescued the mother cat, soothing her panic, and placing her in the basket with her surviving kittens. It was urgent to get them back to his warm home, and he pulled himself to more solid ground, still having trouble in the slippery mud.

When the Death Curse came, he hurled himself to the ground, rolling, his mind more on the safety of the kittens than his own danger. To the amazement of Lance, he somehow, miraculously, kept the basket upright, and even reasonably unjolted. The curse missed. Nerrissa started to utter the words again, but was brought down by Lance with a stunner.

Covered with mud, Harry nodded casually to Lance, thanking him, and set down the basket carefully, before going to Nerrissa, using his cane to keep his balance. It was still slippery.

Lance was already there, and had started to pick up Nerrissa, to take her back under arrest. He was a witness that she had tried to kill Harry Potter.

"Mr. Potter?" said Lance, "Will you come back to the Ministry with me? You're needed as a witness."

Harry shook his head, "I haven't got time right now, and I want you to leave this woman alone." He was looking at Nerrissa closely for the first time. The few times they'd met, he'd paid so little attention to her. This time, he felt her mind, so that he could find her if he wanted to. And he knew now. It didn't show yet, but she was pregnant.

Lance thought that Potter obviously didn't quite understand. He'd nearly been killed! "Look, I'm an auror, my name is Lance Gilbert. I think this is Nerrissa Malfoy, and she's attacked you before, in Germany."

Harry nodded and smiled, "How do you do, Lance," and he extended a hand, making Lance nearly drop Nerrissa as he tried to shake hands.

Harry said calmly, "I know it's Nerrissa Malfoy, and I still want her left alone."

Lance was firm. "She tried to commit a crime - I'm taking her in."

Harry paused. "I don't like fighting aurors," he said, half to himself.

Lance quietly touched the device in his pocket that called for help.

Harry still looked at him, undecided. "Will you reconsider? I really don't want her arrested!"

Lance said again, firmly. "I'm taking her in for questioning, and anyone that gets in my way is committing a crime themselves."

But Harry used a touch of magic, and Lance found himself gently putting the woman down, and unwillingly backing off. Harry picked up Nerrissa instead, planted himself firmly, and said, "Sorry, and I'll be back in a minute. Look after the kittens for me, would you?" and he disapparated.

An instant later, he was ringing the door of the Malfoy mansion, leaving her as soon as the door was answered. Lance swore, and was tempted to kick the basket of cats straight back into the stream, but refrained.

It was only five minutes later that Harry returned, opening the basket, checking on the mother cat, already busily cleaning her kittens. He touched the blanket, warming it again. He was surrounded, Lance, two aurors whom he didn't know, and Grant. They watched him in fascination.

"I need to take the kittens home," he said, "But I suppose I can spare half an hour if you really want to arrest me!"

Lance was staring, and suddenly said, disgusted, "What's the use? You'll only clear out if you choose."

Harry grinned at him, "You can name one of the kittens if you want," as if he thought that would be a compensation.

Lance was unwilling to forgive him, but Grant asked to have a look. Harry placed one of the tiny kittens in his enormous hand, and Grant stroked it gently.

"They were half drowned, but I think they'll be all right," Harry said. "Only one was dead."

Lance thought he might as well have a look, too, and pointed to a kitten, almost coal black, with just a touch of white under his chin. "Capello, I want him to be called Capello."

"Capello," repeated Harry. "I'll bring them back when they're a bit older, and you can have another look - or keep one if you like."

The big, tough aurors gathered around, and another of the kittens was passed around, tenderly, gently, while the mother cat looked on with some anxiety, until Harry stroked her, murmuring soothingly.

Nerrissa made no further attempts to kill Harry Potter. She thought that he was obviously a bit of a weakling after all. Fancy just taking her to her grandfather's!

Two days before Christmas, Harry Potter walked into the aurors' department, cane in one hand, basket of kittens in the other. And when Jebedee found him there, half his aurors were dangling bits of string in front of the kittens, now ten weeks old, and ready to go to new homes.

Lance took Capello, to the irritation of his wife, and the thrilled pleasure of his daughter, Grant took one, and another of the aurors who'd thought of arresting Harry Potter took another.

Jebedee watched in amusement. There had been some bitter complaints a month ago when Harry had refused to allow Lance to arrest the woman who had abducted him, was probably responsible for the death of Tessa, and had then tried to kill him, seriously, and without any ambiguity as to intention. And those rope marks around his wrists, now concealed with wrist-bands, had never been explained. The aurors seemed to have forgiven him now, though.

_ **x**_

In the middle of February, Julie went in search of Harry. He was in the gym, and she watched him as he moved his body rhythmically on the rowing machine. He hadn't noticed her presence yet, and she was enjoying the sight of his strong back and arms, muscles moving, flexing, stretching. She could understand how other women might become obsessed with him. She sometimes read the loveletters that arrived for him, although he never did himself. Tessa wasn't the only young girl fancying that he should be the first. And many of his patients wrote him thank you letters as well.

Chrissy handled all that, Harry never looked at them. Julie liked to read them. There was a thank you letter from a man called Emil, for instance, especially beautifully written. Chrissy had sent the standard polite letter of reply.

Julie had something to discuss with him, but sat and waited. Harry was in a world of his own, caught up in the repeated and satisfying stretching of muscles. Only when he stopped did he notice her sitting quietly there, waiting for him.

They went together back to the loungeroom, and she showed him the article in Witch Weekly, an interview with Nerrissa Malfoy, about the steamy love affair she'd had with Harry Potter, and that she was expecting his child in the summer.

Harry read it carefully, wondering what Julie had made of it. He said, in a carefully casual tone, "Well, that sounds like a lot more fun than being used while unconscious!"

Julie said sadly, "She gets to have your child."

Harry touched her, and offered, "You get to use me whenever you want!"

Julie looked at him in his brief exercise shorts, and said, "That's true," and she pulled him up, took him to the bedroom, and they played a game of using a man while unconscious. But it ended in hilarity rather than a pregnancy.

Julie agreed to go away for a while then, and they spent several weeks in much warmer countries, including the Pacific islands, visiting Beth and Jeremiah.

In March, Harry resumed the overseas trips, although Jebedee gave him only experienced aurors in case of trouble. But Nerrissa was showing herself in public now and was seen to be pregnant. Jebedee refrained from ordering her arrest.

Harry had not denied that the expected child was his, and when Jebedee asked him, only said that he'd rather be thought of as someone who'd had an affair, than as a man raped by a woman!

**x**

One Wednesday in Spain, Harry was doing his usual job, but yawning now and then. Lady had had her foal the previous night, but having some trouble, and Harry as well as Jimmy had spent a large part of the night with her. The foal was almost as odd-looking as Clown, but was healthy. It was to be Lady's last foal. It hadn't been planned, this one, but the Pinto stallion had beaten them again.

Nearly lunch, and a patient had just been perfectly routinely and casually cured. But Harry suddenly looked up, slipped off his cape, briefly said to Alex that he'd be back as quickly as he could, and disapparated.

Jimmy Carr was at a race-horse trainer's establishment, trying to persuade the trainer not to put a bullet in the head of Pinto. Pinto had been found in the stable yard, the door of a horsebox wide open, and just finishing mating a filly, who happened to be a very famous racehorse, and entered in some important races over the next few months. Even if they aborted her almost straight away, she was going to miss at least the next big race.

Jimmy was profoundly relieved to see the boss approaching, not even wondering how he'd known to find him. Jimmy's call for help had not been deliberate, but Harry had heard anyway.

Harry wound up promising that Pinto would be gelded that very day, and this time he had even to promise to buy the filly if her owner demanded, at a truly exorbitant price. The trainer was demanding that Pinto be removed straight away, in spite of the stallion's fierce appearance whenever approached.

This was the second time that Pinto had arrived at that place, although they'd managed to keep him away from the fillies the first time. Harry had paid compensation to other horse owners too. Pinto was an incredible escape artist, and Harry loved him for his brains and his determination. Various stable assistants watched from corners, hiding their smirks from their employer.

Harry begged a bit of rope for some reins, tied it onto Pinto's halter, talking to him firmly when he made as if to snap, slipped onto his back, and only laughed as he bucked and plunged to convey his displeasure. He leaned forward, spoke into his ear, and the horse leapt into a gallop, and took off down the drive. The trainer watched him, scratching his head. Jimmy Carr grinned. The boss was something else.

But as promised, regretfully, Harry quietly and magically gelded Pinto.

He'd been away for nearly an hour, and wondered if he should claim a belly ache or something, rather than admit he'd gone to the rescue of a horse. But he was still laughing. Why did the Pinto always go for the most expensive mares? He found the team at lunch, and gave in to temptation. They'd heard about the pinto before. Justin asked the name of the filly, and he had to stop and think. He finally came up with it, "Octagonal Rose," he said, and Justin and Grant spluttered into laughter. Only about the most famous young racehorse in recent times, and Harry seemed to think that he'd probably bought her!

It was lucky that Harry was among friends. He'd not only shown that he could hear a cry for help from a very long distance, but also that his home must be near a particular racehorse training establishment. Harry was not being very discreet these days.

There was a less hot tempered discussion between Jimmy and the trainer of Octagonal Rose a few days later. It seemed that the filly's owner refused to have her aborted, and wanted to keep her. Maybe she could race again after her first foal, and, if she did lose her speed, the owner would breed from her. But Harry had to buy the foal, at a high price, as soon as it was old enough to be weaned. Harry agreed gladly. He hadn't really wanted a racehorse, and the pinto had such interesting foals.

***chapter end***


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter & his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 14, Final Chapter:_

A week into April, Harry received a note from Draco Malfoy. Harry was cautious. Maybe Nerrissa still planned to kill him, although she'd only smiled smugly the last time he'd seen her at a party, and patted her belly. Julie had ignored her. Julie was growing up.

Harry apparated a cautious distance from the mansion, and felt for danger, and for the presence of Nerrissa or Kryall. They were not close.

He was surprised to find Draco welcoming him with such relief. Draco wanted to show him something, and gave him some coordinates to apparate to, but Harry said to Draco to go first, and just apparated to Draco. He had so far avoided admitting to anyone that he could not apparate to coordinates.

Harry looked at Draco in confusion when they arrived at a very large muggle hospital. But Draco only led off, and Harry, very curious now, followed.

In a humidicrib lay a tiny baby. The skin appeared almost transparent, the eyes were sealed shut, and it could have scarcely been more than twelve inches long. The skinny chest seemed collapsed, sucking in and out, and there seemed to be tubes everywhere, surely much too big for such a tiny baby. Harry put out a hand, tentatively, touching the outside of the crib. He had never seen such a pitiful object. It reminded him of the drowned kitten, and his eyes were moist.

"Who is he?" he finally asked Draco, in a hushed voice.

"It's Nerrissa's," said Draco, in a more matter-of-fact tone. "She was killed, and a muggle doctor cut away the baby. According to Nerrissa, you were the father, though it seems hard to believe. Do you want it?"

Harry was thinking of Julie. "What if I can't take him? Will you raise him?"

But Draco said, "I'd try, but I'm an old man. And I don't know where Kryall is."

"I'll have to ask Julie," said Harry. "I'll get Hermione, too. The poor little thing looks very sick, he may not live."

"The muggle doctors say maybe, maybe not. But they can't use spells to help, of course."

A nurse was bustling about, and looked at him curiously. _What_ did he say?

Twenty minutes later, Harry was back with Julie. Julie wanted to touch. Very premature, not quite seven months, they were told, still touch and go.

"He's not much older than my baby was when he died," said Julie in a hushed voice.

"Draco says we can have him if we want," said Harry, "Since I'm the father."

Julie looked up and smiled. "Yes, please."

Ministry influence was needed to get the tiny baby away from the muggle hospital, but just two days later, he nestled in the arms of Julie, and was frequently touched, gently and in wonder, by Harry. Harry cancelled his overseas work for a time, and when Sandra Darke tried to give him a lecture about his duty to British wizardry, he indifferently resigned, suggesting that maybe they could get Cissy instead.

Hermione moved in to stay with them for the first month as the baby needed a lot of attention. There were no tubes, no oxygen, almost non-stop cuddling, and regular doses of magic. Within a few days, and again with the help of magic, Julie was giving the tiny baby the best nourishment possible. They named him Adrian.

By the end of June, the baby seemed to be healthy, although small for his age, even after the premature birth was taken into account. Now it looked at its doting parents with that look a baby sometimes wears of knowing everything in the universe. They knew he was the most beautiful baby in the world. Harry had known that Margaret, Victoria, James and Beth were all the most beautiful babies in the world, but for Julie it was the first time. Other people thought he looked somewhat like a monkey, but still agreed with the proud parents - the most beautiful baby in the world.

Cissy wasn't ready to start doing overseas trips, maybe in a year or two. So once the baby seemed more securely alive, Harry agreed to resume the work. It was time for Sweden again, and he always liked Sweden... Barbara Bancroft had been very annoyed with Sandra Darke. Whatever Harry Potter wanted, Harry Potter got, she was told, and it was not for Miss Darke to try and rebuke him.

Little Adrian became bigger and stronger as the months progressed, although always appearing small and thin next to other babies. His hair grew in jet black, and his eyes were bright green. He had the colouring of his father.

Oddly, Draco Malfoy took a close interest. This was his great grandchild, and it was the first Malfoy he'd known not to be blonde. Harry and Julie acknowledged Draco's relationship, and never hid the fact that Nerrissa Malfoy was the child's mother. Slightly more information came to light about Nerrissa's death. There were some bizarre stories as muggles tried to find a rational explanation for observed magic. It appeared clear, however, that Kryall had killed her.

Harry again went to find Kryall, again not showing himself. This time, the young man was pacing the floor with a screaming baby in his arms. They were in hiding again, and there was no healer available who could help with a colicky baby. Harry left them alone.

**x**

A year later, Cissy said that if Harry wanted, she could do the overseas stints, and Harry could just clean up the leftover cases on a Friday. Harry agreed with pleasure. That sounded fine to him. They were just to make sure and call him in for any pumpkin-head cures needed. They were urgent, and Cissy could not do them.

Only a few days after that arrangement, Euan Abercrombie watched Julie's possessive pride in her baby, looked at the beautiful daughter of Beth and Jeremiah, who were visiting, and suddenly thought that he was being unreasonable. Harry Potter was unique, and would be a very valuable member of staff. Maybe that friend of his who'd seen Harry with his daughter that time had been mistaken. Now he thought about it, she always did tend to assume the worst.

It was more than thirty years since Harry Potter had lost his job at Hogwarts. At the chronological age of eighty-one, he returned. He had his own small office, and did a routine three days a week, and then often on Thursday or Friday, he'd be working breaking the spells that Cissy couldn't manage.

He rediscovered the happiness he'd always felt in teaching. He did the same type of fill in work that he had previously done, as he had such a wide knowledge of magic, but also did his own subjects with the senior students, according to demand. They were extra, voluntary subjects, ungraded, but a pass under Harry Potter was always noted on final result papers. It was a matter for pride that one had studied with the great wizard. It tended to be noted on resumes.

A favourite nominated short course was that of caring for dragons. And if sometimes, the teaching became dragon tournaments, with conjured dragons in the air, it did not seem to impede learning.

Julie was very happy with her husband and her baby, and Harry took a possessive pride in both of them. Even when Julie demanded that he sit for his portrait to be painted, he only protested a little, and mostly to other people. He had always done what Ginny wanted, and what Luna wanted, and he almost always did what Julie wanted.

So he sat for his portrait, feeling awfully foolish as he did. It was by the renowned wizard artist, Nathaniel Thomas, a grandson of Dean Thomas, whom Harry had gone to school with.

**x**

Harry had suffered some difficult times since Beth had left him. And yet, out of illness, trauma, and treachery, he had gained an increased power. And out of a strange rape, had come a beloved child.

And Harry had a wife again, whom he loved, and who loved him. After all his searching, he hadn't needed to find an equal. He had no equal. Harry Potter was unique. And he found a wife to love anyway.

_**The End.**_

_Postscript:_

_Ancestry of Cissy_

_Harry __, age 21, sired baby girl with American, Susan McKay, on ship back to England. _

_ Daughter called __Toni Bellamy Schuster_

_Daughter of Harry, __Toni Bellamy Schuster_

_ married son of Harry called Ian, son of English muggle, Sandra Torrington, _

_ whom he knew when he was just seventeen.. _

_This was a marriage of half brother/half sister. _

_Their children__: 1st child__ Iris__, Of the other children of the marriage, two died as children, and three died as young adults, showing characteristics of over-sensitivity, sometimes wildly erratic behaviour, and possible heart problems. There were also some stillbirths, and some miscarriages._ _None appeared exceptional in magical power. _

_Iris__ marries __Louis Diefenberger__, son of Harry, from a German tourist , Anna Klein._

_ Only child __Cissy Diefenberger__, _

_ Mother Iris dies when Cissy little, father dies when Cissy 16._


End file.
